


Trouble Brewing

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [30]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Corporal Punishment, Domestic Discipline, Family, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Ithilien, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Sea-longing, Spanking, non sexual mild spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: Legolas wishes to surprise Gimli with a welcome feast.  Chaos ensues when no one knows how to brew dwarven ale properly





	1. Legolas pov

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct follow up to "The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend". In this story, Gimli has come to live full time in Ithilien to help Legolas as he continues to deal with the sea longing. It will help if you have read our notes on this series, and at least some of the earlier stories, especially "The Aqueduct" and the stories following it. 
> 
> In our A/U, Gimli has been asked to act as Legolas' guardian when he is away from home as he is still considered a minor since elves come of age at 1,000 years. We know that is a break from Tolkien's canon, but we've decided to do it anyway to fit our purposes. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Trouble Brewing -Ithilien Sequel

It has been several days since I found Gimli and Galathil ‘fighting’ and my foolish plot to set one against the other was revealed.

I should be feeling a great deal better. I have been forgiven and Gimli has ordered me to forget it and let us begin again with our new life together in Ithilien, but I am finding it very hard to do so. I have made my apologies to Galathil and to Saelind as well and they have both given me their forgiveness. However, our relationship has been damaged not irretrievably I hope but there is still tension between Galathil and myself in particular. At least I feel that there is. Galathil has reverted to a more formal relationship, the easiness with which we related to each other has gone, and he is wary and watchful. Oh, I do not blame him; I have proved myself less than honest and tried to manipulate his growing friendship with Gimli to my advantage, why should he trust me? 

We are making tentative moves to repair the damage I have done but we are both of us being very careful. As if we are walking on eggshells, as Samwise would say. This thought does make me smile a little recalling how Pippin and Merry once tried to get me to walk on eggshells just to prove that an elf could indeed do so. Their argument was that since I could walk on top of the snow I must be able to walk on shells without breaking them. Sam put a stop to the idea by pointing out the waste of food, which of course neither Pippin nor Merry had thought of, and I was just happy not to have to carry out the planned attempt. 

The fact is that I probably could do so if I had to. Elves as a race are incredibly light footed. Then my smile fades, as out of the corner of my eye I see Gimli cross the main glade on his way back to his quarters. It is not so long since he walked in the other direction. While he responds to greetings sent his way readily enough, I know my dwarf well enough to realise that he is thoroughly bored.

I have never seen him so at a loss as to what to do with his time before. He has the sort of forceful personality that needs to keep active. As Lord of Aglarond, his days were full. He was always busy, planning, talking and working. Now he wanders about talking to my folk but with nothing to occupy his mind. I know he is attempting to give me time to adjust. He is determined not to interfere with my running of the colony and does not wish to give the idea that he is watching my every movement and I am grateful but it is a situation that cannot go on indefinitely.

Gimli has sacrificed so much for me already; I will not have him unhappy. There must be something I can do to make things better between us and to give Gimli a proper role in his new life.

Since I know if I were to ask him, he would deny any problems I will have to speak with others to see if they can offer any advice. Deciding that there is no time like the present I leave my desk and slip outside the chances are that Galathil and Saelind will be on the archery range for they have a small office there where the guards congregate before going on duty. Perhaps by seeking Galathil’s help in this matter I can show that I am being honest in my attempts to put right what has gone wrong.

I find my two guard captains indulging in a little sword play. Hearing the clash of steel reminds me forcibly of what happened a few days ago when I burst into the sparring ground believing that Galathil and Gimli were engaged in a battle to the death. This time I stand and watch in appreciation, for both of the combatants are consummate swordsmen, which is one of the reasons my Adar chose them as my guard when I came south to set up my colony in Ithilien. I wait until they break apart, Galathil having managed to score a hit on Saelind’s shoulder. Not a real blow of course, just a tap to signify that he has broken through Saelind’s defences. 

“A good bout” I call out and they both turn toward me, Saelind smiling but Galathil wary even as he sweeps a hand out from his heart in greeting.

“Lord Legolas.”

“I need your advice” I say, “from both of you, if possible.”

They exchange looks and bow again.

“We are at your disposal Lord Legolas; how can we help you.” 

I wave at a wooden bench in the shade of a large birch tree and together we go across. I let them sit on the bench, while I drop to the ground and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees.

“Gimli is unhappy, no …” I put up a hand to forestall their questions. “I have not done anything foolish or dangerous to annoy him. At least not as far as I can tell, and you both know that Gimli is not slow in letting his feelings show if I should be so daft as to irritate him so soon after my conduct on his arrival. No, it is more than that. I fear he may be regretting his choice to come here.”

“That I do not believe,” Galathil speaks up immediately, “he made a free choice to make his home with you.”

“Yes, yes I know that, but he is not accustomed to doing nothing, to having no real role. He was the Lord of Aglarond for over one hundred years. He was honoured and esteemed by his people. His advice was sought. He was needed. Here it is as if he does not know how to fill his days.”

I can see that Galathil is not convinced, but Saelind nods and then offers, “My Naneth was like that when she went to make her home with my sister. She had been accustomed to running her own home and she was suddenly a guest in someone else’s.”

“Exactly!” I beam at him

“But Lord Gimli has been here many times …”

“As a guest, an honoured one true enough, but he did not live here. Now it is different. Like my Naneth he will have to find new roles, new responsibilities, things that will affirm his position here in Ithilien en Edhil.”

“You are saying that. What we need is to find a role for him here?” Galathil is now looking thoughtful, “Beyond caring for Lord Legolas that is, which most would find onerous enough.”

He adds with a smirk in my direction.

“But it will not be enough for Gimli.”

I ignore the last comment, although I am happy to see that Galathil has relaxed sufficiently with me to essay even that small jest.

“No,” Saelind agrees, “He needs more of a challenge even than that! When he has come here in the past, he has often had a project to concentrate on, such as the hall and Lord Legolas’ winter quarters. Is there not some more building work that we need doing?”

“Gimli would not thank us for coming up with spurious projects,” I tell Saelind

“They would not be spurious,” Galathil speaks out. “We have need of a larger guard house for instance. We would also benefit from having more space for all of us in the winter months; it is colder here than we were led to believe.”

Saelind and I both nod at these suggestions, for both projects have been discussed before.

“But how do I approach him without him thinking I am just trying to fill his hours for him.”

“Nothing simpler,” Saelind grins, “I will engage him in conversation and just mention the fact that last winter some of us had to shelter in the empty grain store when the weather turned bad. I might just add that there were both Ellyn and Ellith together. Knowing Lord Gimli he will immediately come complaining to you, Lord Legolas, about your lack of care for your folk and start marking out a new building straight away.”

Galathil and I both laugh at this but I suspect Saelind is correct, and it would certainly be of benefit to the colony and to Gimli if that was the case but I also need to do more but before I can say anything Galathil speaks up again.

“If you can manage it we will all be in your debt,” Galathil tells his second in command, “But I think we perhaps also need to make more of Lord Gimli’s presence here. His new life has not started in the best of circumstances. We should mark his arrival with a proper feast, something that shows him how happy we all are to have him amongst us but also celebrates his own culture as well. We must show proper respect for his dwarven antecedents, and begin to mark not only elven revels but dwarven ones so that he can feel this place can become his true home.

I look at Galathil with new respect, “Of course we should. Why did I not think of such a thing? I have taken part in several welcome feasts in both Erebor and Aglarond and there are some dwarven customs that it is allowable for out-worlders to see. We could incorporate them in the feast itself and mix them with our own traditions to form something unique for both of our cultures.” 

“An excellent idea, Lord Legolas. You will know what is best to do, and what food and drink we will need. I assume we are going to try and keep our plans for such a celebration a secret from Lord Gimli?”

“If we can,” I answer, and then I sigh, and look down at my boots, as a thought intrudes. “We do not have black beer.”

Galathil and Saelind stare at me and I explain, “Every dwarven celebration has black beer.”

“Wine will not do?”

“No”

“Lord Elboron brews beer at Emyn Arnen. We could ask him to send us some,” Saelind suggests

I think about this but then shake my head, 

“It would not be the same, but we could make our own.”

Galathil and Saelind stare at me again.

“Do you know how to brew beer Lord Legolas?”

“How hard can it be?” I answer. “I will write to Lord Elboron and ask him to send us the equipment we need and I will get him to write down the instructions for brewing beer. Even if it is not proper black beer, I know Gimli will appreciate the fact that we have brewed it especially for him. We will have to set it up in a place he will not find it. I will go at once and write to Elboron, have one of the messengers sent to me so the letter can go at once.”

Now that we have something in mind to do, I feel a great deal happier. It will be difficult to keep all our preparations secret, but if Saelind’s plan to draw Gimli into beginning to plan new buildings, he will be busy also so we may yet manage it.

I leave my captains and stride off across the glade, already working out what I will say in my letter to Elboron.

With the letter written and on its way to Emyn Armen I go in search of Gimli for it will not do to avoid him for too long, which will make him suspicious. I find him in his quarters sorting through a trunk full of books. 

He greets me with a smile.

“You are just in time to give me a hand Lamb.” He follows these words by handing me a pile of books and pointing to a bookshelf, “put these on the top shelf lad. They are not volumes I will need often but I didn’t wish to leave them behind altogether.”

We work together for a time, chatting about nothing in particular, and I find I am relaxing at last truly beginning to feel that things will work out and that I can make Gimli happy here. At the moment he seems cheerful enough and his quarters are beginning to look like a proper dwarven home and so I tell my guardian.

“I am glad you think so.”

He stands back and surveys his quarters. There are new thick drapes at the windows, a richly patterned rug before the fireplace and Mam’s chair sits beside it in pride of place. By the south facing window is a worktable already littered with gem working tools, while in the other window space is a desk and a cushioned chair. 

“It seemed the right time to make things a little bit more comfortable now I am here permanently. I still have a pair of wall hangings to hang, perhaps on either side of the fireplace. What do ye think?”

“Are they the ones that depict the throne hall of Erebor and the Great Cavern in Aglarond?”

This pair of tapestries is particularly beautiful, brilliant colours, with gemstones worked in amongst the stitchery. Mam had them made for Gimli shortly before she died and I know they are favourites of his. 

“Aye, they will be a good reminder of my earlier homes and for those who visit here who have never seen the Glittering Caves or Erebor they will show them a small glimpse of the beauty they have missed.”

I am not allowed to wield the hammer that will hold the hangings in place. Gimli obviously feels I am more likely to hit my own thumb than the head of the nail just because I once had the misfortune to do so while in his company.

“I am not a complete fool” I grumble making him chuckle and remind me of the various other occasions when my less than stellar efforts have led to broken hinges and shelves that have a tendency to slope.

I am so relieved to be back in Gimli’s good graces with all our usual bonhomie that I decide not to argue over his statement that I have all the grace and skill of a Mumak on ice when I wield any kind of tool. While Gimli goes off to find his tool box, which is unaccountably missing, I take the opportunity to peruse some of the books hoping I might find one that details dwarven celebrations or even better one that has a description of how to brew ale. I am still searching when my dwarf returns.

“Are you looking for anything in particular laddie?”

I shake my head, “No just wondering what titles you had thought to bring with you. Didn’t Dorbryn gift you with a recipe book before you left in case we failed to feed you properly?”

Gimli laughs and slaps his thighs.

“She did indeed, and I recall your face Lamb when she said it. Ye looked just like your Ada. Eh, she meant well, but as I told her I have never yet starved to death here.”

“Still,” I persevere, “It may be a good idea for me to get the book copied and then give it to the cooks, you are not the only one who appreciates dwarven cooking, and while no one could beat Mam’s fruit bread, we could try and see if we could do something similar.”

“Well I have no objection. If you can find the book by all means borrow it. See if it is in that box on the far side of the room.”

I do eventually find the book but although the recipes are many and varied I can find nothing on Black beer. 

“There are no recipes in here for brewing your special ale.” I say with as much nonchalance as I can manage.

“No, there would not be” Gimli comes over and takes the book from my hands, “the recipe is a secret one and passed verbally from one generation of brewers to another. I shall miss its taste, but there are decent enough brews to be had in Rohan and Gondor so I shall not repine. Are ye taking the book”

I tuck it under my arm, “Yes if you don’t object. Will you soon be finished here? It will soon be time for the noon meal and I am feeling ravenous. It must be all this talk of food and drink.”

Gimli leaves off his work immediately beaming at me.

“If you are hungry we will go at once. You are still too thin and pasty looking for my taste. Come let us see what the cooks have provided us with and don’t let me catch you pushing the food about your plate else we will be having words.”

It is my turn to laugh and together we go down through the halls to where the long tables are laid out for our meal. 

Saelind comes to sit with us and he engages Gimli in conversation immediately, asking him how he is settling in.

 

“You will be grateful for the thickness of these walls come winter,” he tells my dwarf, “last year it was bitterly cold just after the Yule celebrations. There is rarely snow but the frost runs deep and the winds were raw. It was not something we had expected for the previous winters were mild enough but talking with the ranger company they say that the winter weather is very cyclical, and that you may get ten years of mild winters but these are generally followed by ten years of ice and cold. Eventually even the hardiest of us chose to take shelter within the hall, although there were really not enough spaces for us all and I recall that for several nights I and the other members of the guard had to take cover in the empty grain store.”

I listen to this story in silent admiration for the teller, I had never before realised that Saelind was such a good spinner of tales. I shall have to remember that in future but for now my attention turns to Gimli to see how he has taken this information.   
His brow lowers and he strokes his beard, both signs that he is deep in thought, I give Saelind a kick on the shin under the table to prevent him embellishing the story even further, for I do not believe there is any need.

“I don’t like the sound of that lad.” He shakes his head at this apparent lapse “We should have made the hall big enough to take everyone at time of need. Why ever didn’t I think of it before? Still, it is not too late. There is space at the northern end for me to make an extension of the main hall, and we can put additional private chambers above it, so that the ellith have somewhere they can go. I was thinking only this morning as I walked about, that if we added a walled cloister to the front of the main hall here it would provide a refuge from wind and rain. Now you have mentioned the cold winters, we may have Captain, I believe that may be of even more benefit. If the cold became extreme, we could use it to keep the animals in, for the beasties need shelter as well. I wouldn’t like to think of my Ruby being left out to freeze. He is used to having a warm stall under the ground.”

Saelind and I exchange triumphant grins and let Gimli talk on. It will not be long before he calls for parchment and charcoal to begin sketching and drawing and then he will become oblivious to almost anything else until he is satisfied with his plans. At least that is what I hope.

The next few days prove me to be correct. Gimli throws himself into the planning of these new buildings with all his customary enthusiasm, and my people encourage him. In fact as soon as word spreads that he is thinking of making improvements, they fairly fall over themselves to assist him and there is no shortage of advice or requests for other improvements. I begin to wonder if I have been lax in the care of my folk since there are so many things they wish Gimli to look at and perhaps develop.

I must show my discomfort for Gimli as is his want hurries to reassure me.

“Nay Lamb tis only that my ideas have sparked off their thoughts and some of them are good ones. Come and look at this scheme here for digging a well within the newly expanded courtyard. I know that there is less chance now that we will find ourselves under siege but a deep clean well would make life easier for the cooks, aye and if I manage to put in a boiler for water, it will be a bonus for us all.”

I cannot deny that such additions will considerably add to our comfort, and that my plan has more than succeeded so I am well pleased. I am less enamoured when Galathil sends word that a heavy wain has been sighted with all of the brewing equipment and Gimli is still standing in the middle of the glade hands on hips as he supervises measuring.

For a moment or two, I panic then my mind clears and I slip out through the window and make off through the trees to divert the approaching wagon. I see Saelind as I approach and give him my instructions. I can see he is less than keen, but I do not wait to listen, running off again before he can come up with an argument for my choice.

I have obviously got to get Gimli away from the main encampment, so that we can hide all of the paraphernalia. My plan is simple enough. Saelind is to send one of the guards to Gimli, telling him that I have been spotted making for the river. I know very well what reaction that will garner. Gimli will be after me like a fox after a rabbit!

Even when he finds me merely tickling trout for our dinner he will be fuming, and I may well suffer for it but there is no time for subtlety! I have to be prepared to take that risk. 

I strip off my boots and tunic and wade into the stream, and as fortune will have it, I manage to catch a nice fat trout almost immediately. I am concentrating on finding another one when I hear Gimli’s approach.

As soon as he sees me, he bellows at me to get myself out of the stream immediately!


	2. Gimli's POV

It has been a busy few days for I am attempting to at least complete enough of an extension of the main hall to house more of the folk here over the winter if it happens to be a harsh one, so that at least the grain bins and other sheds will not be so over crowded as Galathil claims they were last winter. With an ambitious crew and just a few more weeks of dry weather we just might be able to accomplish it. Already the nights have turned cold and the winds bitter, but unlike their human neighbors, the elves here are little affected by the cold. Dwarves too can tolerate all but the harshest of weather, so the winter setting in has not slowed us down and will only do so when sleet and snow begin, which with a bit of luck will not be for a few weeks. If we can manage to get a roof up, the inside work can be done over the winter months.

Once renovations began everyone seemed to have a request or a suggestion, which has kept me busy designing and discussing for days, but to be truthful it is a relief. When I left Aglarond, I had done so with the intention of being able to take better care of my elfling in order to keep him as well as possible for as long as possible, but I hadn’t even considered what I would do with the rest of my time. It feels completely unnatural to be idle. I don’t ever recall having been so for more than a day or two, so facing years of nothing to do but keeping an eye on Legolas was a little unsettling to say the least. Not that that task might not eventually become a full time endeavor, but right now he seems to have recovered his health sufficiently to not need constant supervision-a quick check in once or twice a day is all that is needed, which I feared meant that the rest of my time would be spent in small talk and meaningless hobbies. 

It is better to be useful and busy, and the elves here seem to have plenty of needs once the word spread that changes were being made. It is not that they are not capable of making these improvements themselves. Elven workmanship is known to be of high quality. It is just that the speed at which things are accomplished is rather slow for my taste. I suppose if a person expected to live forever, taking five years to discuss an addition to the hall might seem reasonable, but I’m the sort that would rather see the end result in my lifetime, and if I see a need then I’d rather fill it as soon as possible. I’ll admit that it takes some getting used to, to work with the builders here, for with my own folk I know just what to say to make them understand what I want done. The elves here need a little more explanation, not being used to my way of communicating, but I am trying hard to be patient. After all I am here to stay, so it is best to get along, and I believe we are trudging along nicely so far.

The most difficult bit has been keeping Legolas from spending too much time outside with me now that some of the measuring has begun. He has stuck close since our rather tumultuous beginning here, no doubt concerned over my happiness, even though I have repeatedly assured him that all is well and I am willing to forgive and forget any past transgressions. It is not that I do not wish for his company, but unlike the other elves here he has lost a great deal of his natural resistance to the cold over the last few years so that the frigid winds effect him almost the same as they would a human. Of course he does not like to be reminded of this, so I try to be subtle whenever possible, such as putting a word into the ears of the maids who do the washing asking them to makes sure that his clothes press is arranged with the warmest items within easy reach. My elfling isn’t the sort to put much thought into his every day wardrobe and is more likely to wear whatever is on top, so if that happens to be a thick padded tunic rather than a thin cotton one, then we have less to argue over. Also today I have sent him back inside for various reasons all morning trying to keep him out of the wind, but finally lost patience and sent him in to stay by the fire for a while and then come back out with a proper coat if he must be out in the weather. 

I think he may be a little put out with me considering he hasn’t come back out yet, but it won’t be the first time, nor likely the last, so I am not too concerned. 

At least that is the case as I stand out in the glade directing my crew of volunteers on where to place the stakes that are to mark out the size of the first addition that is to be added to the main hall. I am just about to search out the head groundskeeper to discuss how difficult it would be to move a couple of ornamental pear trees that might end up being too close to the new structure, when I am interrupted by someone calling out to me. 

“Lord Gimli!” 

I turn to see a guard, who I believe is called Galuon hurrying toward me and looking quite anxious, so I am immediately concerned. 

“What is it? Is something amiss?”

“Captain Saelind says I am to tell you that our prince was spotted heading for the river.”

Immediately any thoughts of winter quarters or relocating pear trees leave my mind and I am heading toward the Morgulduin, even as I question the guard.

“Are ye certain he was heading toward the river?”

“That is the message Captain Saelind said to give you, my lord. Shall I go with you?”

“Nay lad, why don’t you fetch Master Healer Handir and ask him to meet us shortly in Lord Legolas’ winter quarters?” I say.

I do not know what I will find when I catch up with my elfling, but recalling his reaction to the same river only a few days ago, it is probably best to be on the safe side and have him examined by a healer. In fact it might be wise to insist on a visit from Master Handir every few weeks from here on out just to keep problems at bay for as long as possible. That suggestion may go over like a ton of bricks, but just at the moment I do not really care, for it seems that Legolas’ behavior is becoming more and more erratic and the call of the sea stronger.

I fully expect to find him disoriented and confused with that yearning expression on his face that I have learned to recognize as a sign that he is hearing the sea especially strongly, so I am first surprised and then annoyed when that is not the case. Instead of staring longingly at the water or wading blindly into it, he is standing hip deep in the middle of the stream fully focused on catching trout! In fact I can see he has already caught one that is strung on a sharpened stick that is anchored to his wrist, leaving both hands free to catch another one. 

When I shout for him to get himself out of the water, he looks up, smiles broadly and waves as if he cannot hear what I am saying, making me more aggravated than before. I know full well he can hear me just fine, for the Morgulduin is hardly what anyone would call a roaring river, and his hearing is as good as it has ever been. By the time I make it to the river’s edge I am fuming as I repeat my demand for him to come out of the water at once. Of course I expect him to obey immediately considering that he knows better than to cross me when I am this serious and for a moment it looks as if he means to, but instead he takes a deep breath and goes back to what he was doing before, even going so far as to step closer to the opposite bank of the river. 

“I will, Elvellon, as soon as I catch another trout,” he cheerfully tells me, “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“A few minutes? A few minutes! If ye know what’s good for you, you’ll get yourself up this bank this second!”

“But one trout isn’t enough. We need at least one more if we intend to eat them for dinner tonight. I thought you liked trout.”

Thoroughly exasperated, I shout, “What in Mahal’s name does it matter if I like trout or not?”

“Of course it matters,” he explains. “If you don’t like it, I could catch something else. How about a fat cat fish?”

“If you wanted trout, or catfish or stew made from the wing of a hell hawk, you have a hundred elves here who would fall over themselves to get it for you, you foolish youth. You know ye are not meant to be near the river!”

“But I only wanted…”

“Legolas! NOW!” I point to the river bank beside me, and I can see him jump a little, but still he hesitates, making me add, “I swear you will not like it at all if I have to come in after you.”

As I make this promise, I know that I will not be able to catch him if he does not wish it, and I realize also that I have no desire to plunge into icy water that will be waist high on me. I am entirely depending on him reasoning that he will have to face me at some point as he cannot stay away forever, and defying me now will only cause more trouble later for himself. I absolutely do not wish to have to make good on the threat but when he continues to stay rooted to his place, I finally take my cloak off and toss it away, and then begin to work on the buttons of my shirt.

“Gimli, wait! You can’t come in here, the water is cold!”

That I can tell by the fact that his lips are beginning to turn blue, but rather than answer, I only glare at him and continue working on my buttons and before I can finish the job, he seems to have finally come to his senses.

“I’m coming out,” he tells me. 

And he does take a tentative step closer to me.I wait, getting angrier by the moment as he takes his sweet time crossing the river. 

“The stones are slick,” he explains, trying to control his shivering, and then he hesitates just beyond my reach. “Now Elvellon, don’t be angry with me. You didn’t exactly say that I couldn’t come to the river today…you only said it for the day Tegelad left, and that was over a week ago…”

What he doesn’t realize is that this sort of reasoning only serves to prove to me that his being here today has nothing at all to do with the sea longing as I thought at first, and everything to do with seeing how far he can push boundaries with me. He also must not realize that while I am not keen to wade into waist high frigid waters, my boots are entirely waterproof. I take one step into the edge of the river and grasp him by the wrist, yanking him unceremoniously out of the water and up the river bank. He has barely has time to squeak in surprise before I have him pinned under my left arm and am landing half a dozen hard swats to the seat of his very wet leggings. After that I quickly wrap my own cloak around his bare shoulders and begin to drag him back toward the main hall, applying another swat to get him moving in the correct direction. 

We have taken only a few steps, when he twists around, attempting to turn back. He is unable to break free of my grip, however, and I give his arm a yank and propel him a few more steps forward. To my shock and dismay, he actually plants his feet and pulls against me, and I am just about to resort to picking him up and carrying him like a truculent toddler when he finally tells me what the problem is.

“My boots and tunic are still by the river,” he tells me, and sure enough when I look to where he is pointing, I seem them right at the river’s edge. Still I do not trust him not to plunge back into the water as madly as he is behaving today, so I point a warning finger at his face.

“I will retrieve them. Do not move a muscle from this spot until I return.”

It takes a little time to maneuver down the steep bank and back again, and when I do return them to him, rather than hastily pulling the boots on, he sits on a nearby fallen log and painstakingly brushes away grass and dirt from his feet and even starts to wipe the mud away from the boots themselves before I growl at him to get on with it. 

“Wet as you are, you are going to turn into a block of ice if you don’t hurry it up.”

“I am fine,” he tells me, even though his lips are tinged blue and his teeth are clamped together in order to keep them from chattering with cold. He then leisurely gets to his feet and removes my cloak, carefully laying it across the log, and then begins the evidently time-consuming process of donning his tunic. Fastening it seems almost beyond his capabilities today so long does he take.

”What exactly do ye think ye are doing, Elfling? Put that cloak back on and move!”

He looks at me as if stunned by this suggestion. 

“I can hardly go back to the settlement half dressed can I?”

I have never known him to be so modest before, but I merely grit my teeth and motion for him to stop talking and hurry up, but then just when I think he is finished, he begins to unfasten the tunic again.

“It was crooked,” he explains, and I can tell by the way he is eyeing me and taking a step back, that for whatever reason he is measuring exactly how much further he can push before I lose my tempter entirely. 

Why he is playing this dangerous game I do not know, but he is very close to crossing a line, something I prove when I startle him by barking, “What difference does it make if it is crooked or straight, ye crazy elfling? No one will see it! Now let’s GO.”

He backs up another step, explaining as he does so. “It would not be very dignified if someone did happen to notice…”

But I have had enough and so step forward and slap his hands away so that I can unfasten and refasten his tunic myself. I then forcefully wrap the discarded cloak around him again and then yank him forward by it and easily toss him over my shoulder, reminding him that there are less dignified things than being seen in a crookedly fastened tunic and when he struggles and swears, I add a few sharp smacks to his nicely presented rear end to remind him that there are also less dignified things than being carried over someone’s shoulder. After that he ceases struggling, but when we are getting close to the glade he begins to softly plead for mercy. 

“I will come quickly and do just as you say, I promise,” he whispers, desperate now that we can hear the voices of the workers in the glade. I ignore this for a few steps more, but then of course I relent and set him back on his feet, giving him a moment to adjust to being right side up, before taking a firm hold of his arm and escorting him back into the clearing. After that he walks normally and without comment, but watches straight ahead as if looking for something and then out of the blue begins to move more briskly.

“Come on Gimli, let’s hurry inside. It’s freezing out here.” I must offer him an amazed look, for he feels the need to point out, “well I am soaking wet.” 

This time he is the one to take me by the arm and hurry me toward the main hall, turning me quickly away from an out building where several elves have gathered outside, many of whom seem to be watching for our return. If anyone thinks it odd that their prince is dripping wet and wearing a cloak meant for a much shorter and broader figure, no one asks. Only Saelind comes toward us to ask if all is well, and it may just be my imagination, but it seems to me that his expression is somewhat censorious as if he knows what Legolas has been up to. 

Legolas makes his reply sound quite meaningful when he answers, “I am fine Captain.”

Saelind narrows his eyes and for a moment I think he will say something more, but instead he merely nods and stalks off evidently deciding it is best to leave his lord to his fate rather than interfering. Legolas begins attempting to hurry me inside again, and looks decidedly relieved when we close the door of the hall behind us. 

His relief is short lived, however, for Master Handir is already waiting in Legolas’ quarters and if Saelind seemed disapproving, it is nothing compared to our head healer who seems positively livid, though he does not raise his voice as he scolds. He has no trouble giving his opinion on the matter, evidently not being concerned over the rank of his patient, something that I have noticed to be true of most healers.

“Prince Legolas, it was foolish in the extreme to let yourself get drenched through in such cold weather,” he reproaches, as his eyes and then his hands rove over my lad, even as I use a towel to begin to dry the lad’s hair. After a thorough but fairly quick examination Handir pronounces his verdict. 

“You are too recently recovered and still far too thin to risk becoming so chilled, no matter how noble the reason for doing so.”

His words give me pause, for even if Handir has been told what took place, wading into frigid waters to catch trout seems more foolish than noble, but before I can mention this, Handir is giving his recommendations. He aims his words at me, no doubt thinking that his prince has not shown sense enough today to manage the instructions on his own. 

“A warm bath and some hot broth should do the trick to warm him up and then I’d recommend that he stay inside the hall and near the fire for the rest of the night. In fact it is probably best for him not to get chilled for the rest of the winter. I would like to see him gain two stone at least, but until that happens it will be very easy to become overly chilled, which means normal body functions could be hampered, which means risking another serious episode of illness, and none of us want that do we, even if it is for what seems to be a good cause?”

Again those words! Is trout really so popular around here, or has everyone around me gone mad? But again, before I can comment Handir continues.

“As far as I can see, other than what I’ve already pointed out, everything looks fine, though I would not expect that to continue, Lord Gimli, if such shenanigans are not put an end to immediately. I will leave you both to consider what I’ve said between the two of you.”

I am not sure exactly what Master Handir is suggesting, but Legolas does not appear to be too enamored with the idea of considering the healers words with me. In fact he is suddenly in a hurry to follow directions and quickly shuts the door of the bathing chamber between us. 

“Do not stay in the bath so long that the water gets cold,” I warn and then go out to the balcony to smoke a pipe as I attempt to figure out exactly what has gotten into my elfling. From this angle I can see wheel tracks that lead from the woods all the way to the out building that several of the elves were standing around when we returned to the glade and then another set of tracks that lead back to the woods. Whatever was delivered must have been fairly large since the wheel tracks are deep, indicating a heavy wain or wagon must have carried it. I will have to remember to ask Captain Galathil about it when I see him at evening meal. 

Legolas makes an appearance before too long, giving me just enough time to warm his clothing by the fire, something he seems to enjoy very much. He also complies meekly enough when I instruct him to sip the warmed broth while I work on drying his hair and I feel him relax against my knees as I work on brushing and braiding his damp hair. Normally in a similar situation I would expect him to be at least a little apprehensive after having been involved in such blatant naughtiness, but he seems almost relieved rather than worried. It is almost as if he has forgotten about his earlier transgression of going to the river against my direct orders. I, however, have not forgotten and I’m not quite prepared to let it go yet either. 

“So, my lad, I believe it is about time ye explained what exactly ye thought ye were doing going off to the river against my clear orders to stay away.”

I feel him stiffen a little as he realizes he may not be out of the woods yet with me for he knows my feelings on blatant disobedience. I do not take kindly to my instructions being ignored and have been accused of being rather unbending when it comes to such things, but this time I have to bite my lip to prevent myself smiling at the comical expression on his face when he twists around to look up at me. I do not care to recall how many times he has gotten around me by using his legendary wide eyes, and now, as thin as he is, the effect is even stronger than usual. He knows if he can invoke my sympathy or tickle my sense of humor his chances of getting off lightly will increase considerably. I know very well that I am being played, but that doesn’t mean his methods are not highly effective. Still it won’t do to give in too early.

“There is no need to use those doe eyes on me, elfling, for I am made of sterner stuff than to fall for your machinations! I’d like some answers if ye please. Ye knew ye were not meant to be at the river did ye not?”

“Well…sort of, “he hesitantly begins, but then hurries on when I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “That is I knew you had said so on the day Tegelad was leaving, but I was pretty sure you didn’t mean today too.”

“Oh really?” And what would make you think I would change my mind?”

He shrugs and admits, “It was an impulse really. I thought of wanting trout and I went to the river to get it. It never occurred to me that you meant I should stay away from the river forever…is that what you meant?”

I sigh at this, for it does seem like a difficult thing to ask that he never go near another body of water for the rest of his days on Arda, even though if I am honest, I think that is probably for the best. Still I find it difficult to break that news, so I try to come up with a decent compromise.

“Well it would have been better had ye clarified with me before making any assumptions, but I’ll forgive ye this time. However from now on we’ll just say that if ye feel a need to go near the water ye should alert someone, and by someone I mean myself or Captain Galathil or Captain Saelind, not some housemaid ye can intimidate with your position, and furthermore I expect ye to bow to our judgment on the matter. Is that plain enough? Because if ye attempt such a foolish stunt again I will feel the need to put it in other terms that cannot be misunderstood.”

“There will be no need Gimli,” he says offering me a winning smile, “ It is plain, and I appreciate your forbearance in this matter. Thank you.”

I have to concentrate on keeping my expression stern in the face of innocent demeanor and humble words, so I bite my lip to keep from smiling and lower my brow in what I hope is a solemn look. 

“Dinna thank me too fast, laddie. Even if you truly believed you were allowed to go to the river, that still doesn’t explain why you refused to come out of the water, or why you took so long to do as ye were told regarding returning to the hall. I shouldn’t have had to resort to carrying you like a naughty toddler!”

“I…I know it, Elvellon. I’m not sure what came over me, except that I wasn’t thinking straight. I think the cold water froze my brain or something.”

I cannot help the snort of laughter that escapes at this assertion, which causes him to smile cautiously up at me, no doubt hoping the topic will now be dropped. It takes me a shockingly short time to comply to his wishes.

“In that case you’d best thaw it out so ye won’t have reason to repeat such senselessness. Finish the broth Lamb.”

He obediently wraps both hands around the mug of warm broth and sips at it, before offering me his sunniest smile, even batting his eyes a time or two for good measure just in case I am still considering taking him to task for his naughtiness. This time I have to chuckle out loud.

“No need to strain your eyelids, lamb, I forgive you, this time. But mind me, you’d best be on your best behavior for a few days at least!”


	3. Legolas' pov

I close the door to the bathing chamber and lean my shoulders against it, although I am aware that should he choose to batter at it, Gimli could have it open again in the blink of an eye. As Gimli calls through that I should avoid staying in the bath until the water gets cold, I let myself slip down onto the stone floor and drop my head back against the door. I am weary beyond all counting. However, it seems I am safe enough for now and since I am also very cold I strip off my remaining clothing and sink into the hot water, allowing it to ease my aching muscles and bring a little warmth back into my body.

I cannot recall ever having felt so cold. I wonder if this how all-mortal kind feels when the weather turns bitter? If so then I feel acutely sorry for them and will be sure to show more understanding in future. I have taken my own invulnerability for granted for too long it seems.

Now the hated sea longing appears to be stripping me of everything that makes me an elf. The song of the trees is muted and all but drowned out by the siren call of the sea. I am weak and cold and tired, all things that should be alien to me. I give a gusty sigh and let myself slip under the water then come up spluttering and coughing. 

There is a thundering on the door and an anxious shout from Gimli wanting to know if something is wrong.

“No, I am just about to get out and dry myself off,” I call back fitting my actions to the words.

I wrap a towel about my waist and open the door padding over to the fire where Gimli has arranged fresh clothing so that it is luxuriously warm as I dress. 

“Here now,” he tells me taking the towel from my hand, “Let me do your hair, sit you down by the fire and take a sip or two of that broth. You will soon feel better.”

I would like to say I am fine, but I resist the temptation, for we both know that is not true and Gimli does not look to be in the sort of mood that would appreciate such a tale. So I sit down at his feet and let myself doze as he dries and braids my hair. Occasionally, he pokes me in the shoulder to remind me to finish the broth. Eventually both tasks are complete and he then fusses me into Mam’s chair and tucks a fur rug about my knees.

“Ye are not to stir from this fireside until evening meal,” he instructs me,adding when I open my mouth to answer him, “and I have no wish to hear any arguments!”

I give him my sweetest smile.

“I was not proposing to argue, but to request someone sends me up the pile of letters and parcels that arrived from Emyn Arnen today. Reading through my correspondence will keep me occupied.”

Gimli seems about to refuse this but changes his mind, “Aye I will do so, but mind me Lamb, just reading nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” I promise swallowing a yawn, “I do not have the energy for anything else.”

He goes stomping off to find the letters and I find myself smiling after him. When he is anxious and not wanting to show it too much, he often does that particular stomp as if ridding himself of his concerns. I wonder if he is aware of it, but decide I am not brave enough or maybe not foolish enough to ask.

I spend what is left of the day beside the fire, reading my correspondence and trying to understand how beer is brewed or perhaps I should say ale, since there is a difference. As I now know, one is brewed with hops and one is not! I am not sure yet which it is we are going to try and produce.

Elboron has written that he has included malted grain, which is, he tells me, both the fermentable material and a key determinant of the strength and flavour of the beer. We have been given malted wheat. I have to read some more to find that the wheat is not a special kind but becomes malted by being soaked in water until it begins to germinate then it is taken out and dried in a kiln. Brewing beer or ale brewing, appears more complicated than I knew.   
Different roasting times and temperatures are used to produce different colours of malt from the same grain. Darker malts will produce darker beers. I hope our malt is darker for I know Gimli favours dark ale or black beer.

 

After malting, the wheat or barley is milled. Milling is a process I do understand for that is how we make flour. Milling removes the hull, breaking it into large pieces. These pieces remain with the grain during the mash. I look up what mash is and find it is the process of combining the grain with water, which is heated. Well I think we can manage that part. Then I come across another strange word; whatever is lautering? Producing wine seems to be a much simpler process than brewing ale.

But what is plain is that it is fermentation that changes the wheat or barley into sugary liquid which eventually becomes beer when yeast is added. Looking at the long list of equipment we need I no longer wonder why the wain was so heavy that it left ruts in the ground, ruts that I know Gimli was intrigued by. I will have to come up with a good story to explain it away.

Elboron has sent a diagram explaining how all these bits of metal and wood come together, which is just as well. While I might guess at what a hot water tank may be used for, a mash tun and a hopback are mysteries to me. 

When all of the work is done, the ale or beer has to be left to ferment for at least a week and sometimes more, so if we are to have ale for Gimli’s welcome feast, we are going to have to make a start very swiftly.

I am still pondering how this might be done when Gimli returns, “Ye are looking a little peaky lad. Is there bad news in those papers?”

I hasten to put them out of his view, “No, nothing of great import. You know how Prince Elboron likes to pontificate on matters. How Faramir and Eowyn came to have such a pudding heart as him I do not know. Boromir would be scandalized.”

Gimli laughs as I intend him to, and seems to lose interest in my reading matter. 

“Do you want to eat here tonight?”

It is a tempting offer but I need to speak to Galathil and Saelind so I shake my head.

“I would like to go down to the hall if you don ‘t mind?”

I pose this answer as a question, hoping that Gimli will agree. While he is still looking a little concerned, he does so, although he also warns that, should I look tired he will be marching me back to my quarters very quickly.

Gimli insist that I add another tunic to the one I am wearing, even though I will not have to venture outside to get to the hall. He thinks I do not know that he ensures that thicker padded clothing is always at the top of my clothes press. Of course I have noticed that since my guardian’s arrival there have been these subtle and some not so subtle changes put in place to ensure, in Gimli’s opinion that I am kept as protected as possible from the worst physical consequences of the sea longing. How can I not have done? But equally, I am so comforted by these small changes and the love that prompts them that I pretend I am unaware, and thus allow him to cosset me without complaint. Therefore, I scramble into the tunic and then pronounce that I am ready. Gimli, having checked me over, nods and allows me to precede him down the stairs.

Galathil and Saelind are seated together as usual and I make my way over to them, with Gimli in tow. They both prepare to rise but I wave a hand at them. I have no great love for formality and prefer not to make use of it unless absolutely necessary. 

My captains subject me to careful scrutiny but do not mention my earlier visit to the river. I suspect they have surmised why I did what I did, and even while they may not approve of my choice of a diversion, they assume that any consequences of that choice are best left to my guardian. 

I make a great show of dropping down onto the wooden bench and I catch Galathil frowning as it becomes plain that I am not in the least bit sore. Really my guard captain is beginning to show a very sadistic streak in his personality!

We talk generally for a little while until the meal is served then Gimli asks Galathil what was delivered from Emyn Arnen this morning. 

“It was something heavy by the looks of the ruts the wain caused.”

Elves are not good at prevarication, and Galathil and Saelind seem unable to come up with a satisfactory answer so I jump in with, “I expect it was the barrels we ordered.”

I know better than to ask if that is correct, because they will be certain to flounder and make Gimli more suspicious.

“Barrels? Well there must have been a fair few of them. What are they going to be used for?”

Now when they would be better to keep quiet my guards answer together and alarmingly at odds with each other.

“Lemons!”

“Olives!”

I kick both of them on the ankles to quiet them, and Galathil gives me a glare in response but I am too busy watching Gimli who is looking from one to the other, his brow furrowed. Once again, I intervene with an explanation.

“Well both actually. We are looking at new methods of preservation, something that will allow us to have the fruits through the winter months. The men of Far Harad, pickle them in salt and their own juices. We are going to try the same. It is better than letting them rot on the trees.”

“Aye that makes sound sense, and the olives I suppose ye are going to press and keep the oil?”

“We will be doing that but they can also be preserved in salt or brine, or smoked. We will try all three methods and decide which works the best for us.”

Gimli nods approvingly, “I will be interested in seeing what the results are like. If it works well we could perhaps send some to Aglarond and Eryn Lasgalen. I am sure the cooks will enjoy having additional items to spice up their winter meals. It is a good plan Lamb.”

I take the praise, even knowing I am attempting to pull the wool over his eyes as Samwise would put it. I am not actually lying for we are intending to try these new methods of preservation so I do not feel too badly about deceiving him. Conversation becomes general after that and as soon as the meal is ended. Gimli encourages me to retire to my quarters again, but I still have plans to make. 

“I will be up directly,” I say, “but first I wish to consult Galathil on the guard roster. I shall not be long I promise.”

“See ye are not! I rely on you, captain, to see that he keeps that promise.”

I bristle at this but bite my lip. It will not do to argue and end up being ordered to bed. That would only embarrass me and prevent me from arranging for the brewing equipment to be set up as soon as possible.

Gimli goes on his way, and I turn to my captains.

“Set someone on to get the brewery things together. If we are to have ale for Gimli’s feast we have to begin brewing tomorrow.”

“Do we have anyone who knows what to do?”

“I will send down the diagrams that Lord Elboron sent me. They are self-explanatory.” 

This is not true, but perhaps someone else will be able to understand them more easily than I did and either way it has to be done. 

“Tomorrow, I want you, Saelind, to go with Gimli to look at the place we got the stones for the hall to see if there are others we can use to build the new hall Gimli is planning. Keep him out for as long as you can. It will allow Galathil and me to begin brewing.”

There is some discussion, argument I would call it, as to which one should go with Gimli. Both seem keen while neither wishes to join me in starting the brewing process. When I comment on this, Galathil answers by saying that they know nothing about brewing ale.

“You know nothing about stone,” I answer.

“No but Lord Gimli does.” 

I scowl, “Are you suggesting that I will not know what I am doing?”

“Not suggesting,” this time it is Saelind who answers. “Just telling the truth. None of us know what to do!”

This is true of course, but someone has to stay with me, and in the end Galathil pulls rank and orders Saelind to stay behind.

“I hope those instructions that Lord Elboron sent make sense, else we are going to be in real trouble” he mutters as he goes on his way. 

 

I turn to Galathil who is smiling and complain, “Saelind does not have much faith in my abilities does he?”

 

Galathil raises an eyebrow, “Should he have?”

 

Really, anyone would think I am a complete fool. As I said before just how hard could this brewing thing be?

Of course asking yourself a question like that is unwise because at some time, you are going to find out the answer and it may not be the one you wanted it to be. 

The time for that answer proves to be the following morning. I do not find it difficult to persuade Gimli to go off to view the stones; in fact, he seems anxious to be on his way I suppose it is because he wants to get started on the building to the extension of the hall as soon as possible. Certainly with the weather beginning to turn we can all feel winter coming to Ithilien and more space will prove to be very useful.

I watch him ride off with Galathil and their escort, as well as those elves who have worked with Gimli when he built our hall here in Ithilien en Edhil. They are all chattering away in the strange language of those who deal in stone masonry, and Gimli is in his natural element. It is wonderful to see how well respected my guardian is and how easily he is integrating into our colony. Perhaps, the ease is because only those elves from Eryn Lasgalen who were happy interacting with other races chose to travel south with me so there is none of that sense that Gimli occasionally complains of as elven belief in their innate superiority. However, I suspect that it has more to do with Gimli’s happy knack of getting on with folk of all races and particularly those who are interested in architecture and engineering. 

 

As soon as they have departed, I make for the shed where the brewing equipment has been stored. Of course, Gimli cannot depart until he has left strict instructions as to how I am to be cared for in his absence. Most of his strictures are aimed at Saelind, his having already bent my pointed ear at first meal. I wait until he is riding away before I roll my eyes at Saelind and sigh at his fussing.

“I swear he believes I am incapable of doing anything unsupervised, and fears I may do something outrageously foolish unless he is watching over me.”

Saelind gives me a look that seems to say he agrees with Gimli’s thinking. I sniff and march off to the shed with my captain walking behind me.. I do not turn back but I just know he is grinning. 

At least, here my orders from last evening have been carried out. Someone must have worked hard to get things done. I consult the diagrams and it appears to me that everything looks to be in the right place. 

There is quite a strong smell emanating from the sacks of wheat, while a boiler is already heating up the water we will need. I read the instructions again, and consult with Saelind. If something goes wrong, I want to have someone I can share the blame with. We both read Elboron’s words carefully once and then twice more.

The words ‘how hard can it be’ echo in my head, but procrastination is not an option if the ale is to be ready for the feast, so I grab one of the sacks and tip the contents into the copper. From what I can understand, much of the initial work has been done for us. The wheat has been malted and milled, so we just need to add water to it to begin the process of brewing.

 

Elboron had written that he has included malted grain, and I am happy to find that color is dark which should mean that the ale would also be dark.   
There are still pieces of the husk in the grain. They will not be taken out until after the mash is completed. Working on the amounts of grain in the sacks we calculate the amount of water we need and then light a fire under the copper kettle. As the water heats the smell is quite overpowering, how are are to hide our efforts from Gimli I do not know. Saelind must be thinking similarly.

“Fish!” he says suddenly.

My face must register my confusion for he adds.

“ If we put the fish and venison that is being smoked for the winter in front of the shed, the smell of the smoking may mask the odor of the ale.”

This is such an excellent idea I find myself quite back in charity with him and hurry off to make the necessary arrangements.

We then stand and watch as the water heats. I am not sure what it is we are expecting but the result is a little disappointing and the smell disgusting!

“It may be a day or so before we can tell it is working” I say with more confidence than I feel.

“Yes” Saelind answers, “We have still to add the yeast after all.”

This reminder cheers me a little, and I say we will add the yeast tomorrow morning. For now we have other things to do before Gimli’s feast.

I send Saelind off to collect all those of my folk who have some special affinity with music. I have no musical ability. Oh I can sing, quite well, I have been reliably informed, but I do not play any musical instrument. Still, there are elves a plenty who revel in making music and when I explain our plans, they are very keen to play a role in the celebrations. It takes little more than my tapping out a rhythm on a tambour for them to take up the melody. While it does not have the earthiness of true dwarven music, I believe that Gimli will at least recognize it for what it is meant to be. 

They practice and after the noon meal we all gather together in the glade and I explain the intricacies of dwarfish dancing. There is much amusement and laughter as I take them through the steps of a round dance but soon they are all following the steps, the Ellyn going one way and the Ellith the other. Again, our efforts may not pass muster in the realm of Erebor but I feel sure the dwarves of Aglarond would approve of our efforts imperfect as they may be. One of Gimli’s favorite maxims is that if someone is doing their best then you can ask for nothing more.

After a hurried consultation with our cooks over the food I find I am tired enough to not argue when Saelind suggests, quite forcibly that I go back to my quarters. I am still asleep when Gimli returns.


	4. Gimli's POV

The next morning everything seems to be back to normal and my lad no worse for his antics at the river yesterday, though I am still wont to be cautious under the circumstances, and if I am honest probably always will be this side of the sea. Because of this, my original thought is to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the day, but I quickly change my mind when I find out that a team has already been assembled to go with me to select the stone for the addition to the hall. 

Most of the elves are ones I have worked with before when the colony was new and we were first building the original hall. Galathil has evidently also been selected to go with us, so it is Saelind I remind to keep a close watch on my elfling since I will not be here to do so myself. I’m sure Legolas is less than pleased with this, but after yesterday, surely he can’t be surprised! 

It seems to me that Saelind and Galathil are on the outs with one another, or more that Saelind is not pleased with Galathil. Galathil himself seems almost amused as he smirks over his shoulder at his scowling second in command as we ride away.

“Is all well with Captain Saelind?” I ask. “He seems a little out of sorts this morning.”

“It’s nothing serious,” Galathil tells me, “He’s just a little put out with me after having lost a debate we were having. He’ll be over it soon enough I am certain.”

I can’t help wondering if having to elfling sit his lord was the forfeit that Galathil demanded, but I decide it is better not to ask since it might put Galathil in an uncomfortable position to have to answer.  Instead I merely nod and change the topic to the sort of stone I am hoping to retrieve.  
   
As it turns out I thoroughly enjoy the work. It is cold out, but my companions and I are not much bothered by it.  I may not be quite as immune to the cold as they are, but physical exercise keeps me quite warm and we have filled three heavy wains with good granite for the walls and slate for the roof.  We even discover some bricks leftover from an old building site that might come in handy in some way.    
   
It takes the morning and into the afternoon to fill the wains, but I believe we are all quite pleased with the day’s work so far.   It is slow going back to the glade pulling the loaded wagons, but when we get close I notice one or two of the workers frowning at one another and then covering their faces.    
   
“What IS that stench?” someone finally asks, though I smell nothing at all. Captain Galathil seems to agree for he is quite stern in his reply.  
   
“I smell nothing out of the ordinary,”  he claims giving the poor asker a very sharp look.  “You must be imagining it.”  
   
The other elves seem a bit bewildered, but no one else complains until eventually it becomes plain even to me that there is something going on.  Very soon I too can smell a pungent odor that seems to be coming from the glade.  It reminds me strongly of the back alley of a street festival I once attended in the White city where a fishmonger was selling day old fish alongside a vender selling a strange human confection called malted milk.  It is no more pleasant now than it was then.    
   
Galathil doesn’t seem to have answer to what it might be, and when I find Captain Saelind to ask him he tells me all he knows is that some fish and venison is being smoked. He has no answer when I ask him what is causing the odor, telling me only  
   
“Prince Legolas arranged for it to be done.  I am not certain exactly what he told the workers to do.”

“Well do you know where he can be found?” I ask,   “ It seems abnormal to me and I’d like to ask him about it.”  
   
“As far as I know he is in his quarters.  I managed to convince him to retire there shortly after the noon meal.”  
   
“Ah well done, Captain.  I will just go check on him then and see if we can’t solve this mystery.”  
   
I half expect to find Legolas’ bedchamber empty since he is a master at giving the impression that he is following good advice without actually doing so, so I am very much surprised to find him tucked under his quilts with his eyes clamped shut and obviously sound asleep. I can’t help sighing at this, for it dawns on me that I haven’t seen him sleeping with his eyes open in a very long time, and I expect that may be the case from now on. It is another testament to the fact that all is not well and cannot be again until he finally gives in to the call. 

I do not like to disturb him, but it will not do for him to miss the evening meal, or any meal for that matter, and I need to consult him regarding the strange stench that is coming from the smoking meats before then. 

I use one finger to stroke his cheek, which only causes him to brush at his face and roll over. Next I push his long hair back over his shoulder and call his name as I do so.

“Legolas, time to wake up lamb.”

This garners a soft irritated groan as he burrows deeper under the covers until only the very top of his golden head can be seen. I chuckle at this reaction and pull the covers back.

“Ye canna appear at the evening meal looking like a street urchin rather than a Prince of the Blood now can ye? Ye need to dress properly for dinner young elf!”

He tries again to grab at the covers, but I pull them out of his reach making him scowl in my direction.

“You know I don’t stand on formalities Gimli. Just ten more minutes…please?”

“Well ye should at least run a brush through your hair else everyone present will think Radagast has come to call. Next thing ye know a family of thrush will be making their home on your person.”

 

I enjoy the familiar banter, but I can’t help being concerned over how tired he still looks after having napped all afternoon. 

I sit on the side of the bed and place the back of my hand on his cheek, checking for unnatural heat as has become my almost daily habit.

“Are you feeling quite well, lamb?”  
   
He bats my hand away and finally throws his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he does so.

“I feel fine, Elvellon, there is no need to fuss,” he asserts, not overly convincingly since it is said around a cavernous yawn. “I am just a little tired is all.”

“Have ye been working too hard?”

“No Gimli, I swear. It must be the weather. Hand me that hairbrush will you?” 

He requests, no doubt attempting to change the subject away from his failing health, and since it will do no good to dwell on it more than necessary, I let the topic drop and just hand over the brush.

As he smoothes and rebraids his hair, he asks about my day searching for building materials.

“We brought back some fine stone and brick,” I tell him. “it should be plenty to get at least the walls and roof of the main structure up before snow flies, but the lads and I noticed something strange on the way home. Saelind said you had the smokers set up today?”

He nods. “I did. We should have plenty of venison and fish over the winter.”

“Did ye see for yourself what was done laddie? For I’ll tell you plainly that something isn’t right with the process. We could smell it for miles and believe me when I say it was not a pleasant aroma. It reminded me of the stench of the back alleys after the first Frost Fayre in Minas Tirith with all those strange human concoctions that were being sold. Remember that spun sugar floss that we tried?” I shudder at the memory of the sticky sweet that melted into a sickening glob once it was placed on the tongue.

“I liked it!” Legolas replies, “And it smelled nice besides.”

“You would, having the palate of a toddler!” I laugh, thinking of his penchant for adding not two but three or even four spoonfuls of honey into his tea when he thinks no one is watching. 

“Hmmph!” is all he can think of to say, but the way he tosses his head tells me exactly how he feels about my observations. I laugh again, but then get back to the topic at hand.

“Anyway, the smell wasn’t like the sugar floss. It was a terrible stench. Most of the elves were coughing and covering their mouths and noses, though for whatever reason Captain Galathil claimed he couldn’t smell it himself. To tell the pure truth I think he was telling a falsehood, though I canna imagine why.”

For some reason Legolas is beginning to look a little uncomfortable as if he has been up to something, though he only answers vaguely with, “How odd. I’ll have to ask someone about it. Shall we go down to dinner?”

But I am not going to be so easily dismissed in my concerns. 

“First I think we needs must investigate the situation, laddie. We canna be feeding folks contaminated meat, and I’m telling ye now that that stuff smelled foul. “

“I am sure it is fine, Gimli,” he tries to placate, “we’ve never had such trouble in all the years we’ve been settled here. ”

“Well be that as it may, unless we get to the bottom of what the problem is, you won’t so much as taste a mouthful of whatever is being smoked today for I will not risk it making you ill. You can certainly do without developing food poisoning on top of everything else! Besides that can you imagine the problems we’d have if the whole colony ends up sick from tainted meat? Nay laddie, we need to investigate the matter right away. Contaminated food is nothing to mess with ye know.”

“I know, but…”

“No buts about it! It is not something that can be overlooked and quite frankly I am shocked that you are so casual about the situation! It is your duty to protect your folks and it is my duty to protect you, so let us both address the matter. No arguing, youngling, just put your coat on and MOVE!”

I apply a firm swat to the seat of his leggings to lend weight to my words, causing him to very reluctantly go out into the corridor with me following close behind.


	5. Chapter 5

xxxx

 

My mind is in a whirl. How in Eru’s name am I to keep Gimli away from the shed where we are brewing the ale? My attempts to dissuade him from the necessity of seeing for himself have so far yielded little more than a smarting smack on the rump.

Dawdling in the hallway is unlikely to be smiled upon, and yet I can think of nothing else to do. Fortunately for my rear, I spy Galathil and Saelind and by dint of rolling my eyes and making fluttering motions with my hand behind Gimli’s back, I manage to attract their attention.

“Galathil,” I call out, “will you let the cooks know we will be late in for dinner? Lord Gimli is determined to see for himself what is the problem with the smoking sheds.”

I am relieved to see that my words have an instant impact on my two senior captains.

“Ah, is that so? Well of course I understand that the strange aroma needs to be investigated,” Galathil answers, making Gimli nod approvingly. “However I was rather hoping Lord Gimli would come with me to ascertain if the stone blocks we brought back with us are safely stacked. I have been advised that there may be a problem with them and I would value your opinion Lord Gimli for you better than any of us know stone.” He nods in Gimli’s direction.

I wonder why it is that I have never noticed until very recently that my senior captains are very skilled in the art of dissembling. It gives me pause to think that I have foolishly believed that elves do not lie. In fact all of my life I have been told that elves cannot lie, which seems now to be a lie in and of itself. My brow furrows as I think this over …

Or is it that I have actually corrupted them both and that it is my failings that have led them to believe that they can pull the wool over Gimli’s eyes as I have so often attempted to do and so often failed to achieve.

Have I been so purblind as to not realize that the officers and lords of my Adar’s realm have been busily obfuscating whenever I have asked or requested something they or my father believed was not in my best interests?

If that is indeed the case then why is it that I am so incapable of dissembling successfully?

No doubt they would put it down to my naiveté or youth or more likely both or maybe because I have allied myself to a very perceptive and very suspicious dwarf! A dwarf who presently is frowning. I wonder if he has seen through the attempt to get his attention away from the smoking sheds. I am still trying to come up with something to say when Saelind steps into the breach.

“How would it be if Lord Legolas and I visited the sheds while you two see about the building supplies? That way none of us will be late for evening meal and we can share our findings over dinner.”

I hold my breath and then exhale noisily as Gimli agrees with this suggestion.

“Aye let us be off Captain, and Lamb, do not stand about too long. The wind is cold tonight.”

I promise to move swiftly and hurry off with Saelind. The stench coming from the sheds is warning enough that something is not right. 

“I stare down into the vat, keeping one hand over my nose. The liquid looks like a brown porridge and smells like nothing I have ever smelled before. “I do not understand what we have done wrong.”

“Do you think we got it too hot?” Saelind pokes at the mess with a large wooden paddle.

I shrug, because frankly I have no idea whether we have or not. 

“Perhaps if we add the yeast it will improve,” I offer.

Saelind does not seem enthusiastic about this suggestion, but since he has no other ideas to offer, we decide to go ahead with adding the yeast. With the fires out we can only trust the smell will dissipate on its own. We prop open the shutters and door at the rear to help draw the smell away. Then leaving one of the guards to keep an eye on things even though he is unhappy about it we hurry back to the hall, deciding on a story of finding some foul venison, which we have arranged to burn. This we hope will explain the continued smell at least for tonight. What I do tomorrow if things have not improved, I have no idea. No doubt I will come up with something.

Gimli and Galathil are already seated at the table when we arrive. Gimli gives me a cheerful smile as I slip into place opposite and I am relieved to see he appears to be relaxed and happy.

“Is all well?” I ask

“Aye, fine, Lamb, just fine.” He pats my hand. “Dinna look so worried. The guards were being cautious that is all, but small blame to them for that, for they were not to know that when a dwarf stacks stone it stays stacked. What of yourself?”

“You were correct there was something wrong with one lot of the venison. It will be burnt tomorrow but we will need to replace the stock before winter sets in.”

“Aye so Galathil was just telling me. I reckon it might be a good thing if ye were to take that great bow of yours and see if ye can bring down another buck or two tomorrow. I would come with ye but I really want to go back to where we found the stone today. There is some good stone still there, which we can use to make a start on laying the foundations on the extension to the hall. It is likely that I will be gone all day.” He adds. “ye dinna mind too much I hope?”

I cannot believe that Gimli is giving me this perfect opportunity to do what is needed. I II do go out on a hunt I can call in on Elboron and ask for his advice over the ale and maybe get back before Gimli to put things right. I am careful not to sound too enthusiastic about the plans but allow myself to be persuaded before the meal ends.

“I know how important it is to get the hall finished before winter truly sets in.” I tell Gimli when he asks me a second time if I would sooner he goes with me.

“Well we do not have to live in each other’s pockets that is true enough. And we will both be doing what we are best at.” He tells me as we return to my winter quarters. “I am beginning to feel at home now I have a project or two to immerse myself in and which I know will be a benefit to all of our folk.”

I cannot help the smile that fills my face at these last words, ‘Our folk’. How good that sounds and if I can somehow get the ale to work, Gimli will see that we are as pleased to have him here as he seems now to be. 

It has been decided that we will hold our welcome feast at the end of the week, and preparations are well under way. Songs and music are being practiced, food some of it taken from the cookbook Gimli brought with him is being made and I have seen several groups of our folk going through dance steps and other entertainments that we hope Gimli will enjoy.

“Ye are quiet tonight Lamb, ye are not too tired I hope?”

“No,” I hurry to reassure Gimli that all is well, “I was just thinking about getting my formal robes brushed and cleaned for when we go to Minas Tirith. You can be sure Estel will want us to attend some function or other and I want to make a good impression on those men who are still to be convinced that having an elven colony in Ithilien is a good thing.”

Gimli seems impressed, by my forward thinking, “that is a good idea. I will get my things out as well and give them an airing. As you say we will want to make a good impression, now shall we practice a little more Khuzdul or would you sooner read?”

Since it is rare that Gimli agrees to teach me any of the dwarven language, I take him up on the offer with alacrity. I spend the rest of the evening learning some new phrases amongst them I cleverly slip in a request on the proper words I would need if I were welcoming a dwarven lord to my land and offering him the freedom of it.

I store up the phrases repeating them in my head until I am certain I will remember them so that I can use them at the feast and go to bed with only one thing to worry me: the state of the ale.

It is not the ale that keeps me awake however, but the sudden thought that I should have some kind of token to present to Gimli to show he is a lord of Ithilien.


	6. Gimli's POV

I follow Captain Galathil out to where I earlier directed the stone we gathered today to be stacked. I am a little surprised that anyone is concerned over it, for there was no reason to believe the stack might collapse, but since I do not wish anyone to worry, I take the time to inspect it anyway. 

“It looks fine to me, Captain,” I say, “ I’ve never yet stacked stone or brick that didn’t remain stacked until I moved it or ordered it moved. Tell your guards they needn’t worry. Now shall we go see how Legolas and Captain Saelind are coming with the smoking sheds? I’ll admit to being curious over what has gone wrong there. I’ve never smelled such a stench coming from something that was meant to be consumed!”

I turn back toward the smoking sheds, expecting Galathil to follow me, but he hesitates instead and when I glance back to see what the problem is, he looks as if he is debating whether or not to say something. 

“Is anything on your mind Captain?”

He sighs heavily.

“Actually, Lord Gimli, there is. I brought you out here to speak to you, but I’ve been in two minds about it the whole time. I don’t like to give away Lord Legolas’ secret and yet I can think of no other way around the problem.”

Ah so now I understand the reason for the concern over the stone was only a ruse to get me away to speak to me privately, and I am immediately on edge. The words “secret” and “problem” in the same sentence with my lad’s name never bode well together. 

“By all means if there is an issue with my charge I must be told about it. Is something amiss with him that he isn’t telling me?”

“No, nothing like that,” Galathil replies, “There is nothing to worry about.”

“With that one there is always something to worry about,” I disagree, “but if there isn’t a problem, then what do you wish to tell me?”

“First I would ask for your word that you will not divulge that you know anything about what I am about to reveal. It is nothing to do with a physical problem, but it is something that Lord Legolas wishes to keep secret. I would not like to tell you unless you can promise not to tell him that I told you.”

My curiosity is more piqued than ever, and my patience is getting thinner. After all these years I am still perplexed by elves and their way of talking around a topic without ever getting to the point! Of course I cannot swear to keep a secret until I know what it is, so all I can promise is,

“I will keep your secret if it is at all possible.”

Galathil still looks a little skeptical, but evidently he decides it is worth the risk so he begins his round about way of telling me what is going on.

“Very well,” he begins. “Lord Legolas strongly regrets that your first days here at Ithilien en Edhil were so traumatic. He wishes to make it up to you.”

I nod at this, for even though I have told Legolas that he shouldn’t worry over it, I knew he would have trouble heeding that advice. The poor lad has an overly sensitive conscience once he realizes he has done something wrong.

“Aye, I know it, but there is no need for him to make it up to me. He’s paid the proper price for his naughtiness and we have moved on. It was just a glitch, nothing more. Everything is forgiven and forgotten.”

“Of course. And yet he would like to make sure you are properly welcomed and that you feel at home. He is planning a surprise celebration for you that is to take place in a little over a week.”

“Oh! Well that is very thoughtful indeed, but why would ye spoil the surprise?”

“I didn’t want to,” Galathil guiltily explains, “ and I wouldn’t have, except that we have encountered a problem that none of us know how to fix and I believe you are the only one here who can help.”

This tale is becoming more intriguing by the minute!

“Well that is a dilemma. What is the problem that only a dwarf can solve?”

“It has to do with the awful stench you mentioned earlier. He has been attempting to make beer.”

“Has he now?” I chuckle, finally understanding why that foul odor seemed so familiar. I have certainly seen my share of bad brews in my time! “It seems he hasn’t been too successful at it.”

“No indeed, and he so wants to please you. He will be bitterly disappointed if it turns out poorly.”

I smile at that for even though he can be trying on occasion, the child has always thrived on my approval and would indeed be terribly disappointed if his attempts to please me failed even if I told him that it is the thought that counts more than the result with me. It would be a shame for his hard work to be wrecked. Besides that it would be a shameful waste of ale! Of course I must see what I can do to salvage the situation.

“I’m not a brew master, Captain, but I will do my best to fix things if I can. We’ll need to get Lord Legolas out of the way, though, and try to keep this secret between us and perhaps Captain Saelind so that he can keep the lad occupied long enough for me to make an inspection and see what can be done. How does that sound?”

Galathil smiles, relieved, and we make plans as we walk back to the dining hall to meet up with Legolas and Captain Saelind. We decide that sending Legolas out to hunt for more provisions for winter will be the best way to get him out of our hair. Of course anyone could be sent to hunt, but I know my lad will jump at the chance to be out riding in the woods with my full consent, especially after I have perhaps been a little over cautious about the cold weather lately.

Sure enough he agrees, so the next morning I see him off early with only the smallest admonition that he should dress warmly and take things slowly. I assume that Galathil has briefed Captain Saelind about keeping Legolas away until at least mid day if possible since I do not know what we will find when we go to where the beer is being brewed. 

I meet Captain Galathil after first meal and after everyone has gone off to their tasks for the day. I wish to draw as little attention to myself, for the fewer folks who know about what we are about the do the better it will be and the less likely that Legolas will discover the truth. 

As we approach the shed, I have to place a handkerchief over my nose and mouth before I can enter so strong is the smell. Galathil buries his own face in the crook of his arm as we look down at the bubbling mess before us. 

“Well?” asks Galathil. “Can you tell what the problem is?”

 

“Too much yeast,” I tell him. “But that isn’t what is causing the foul smell. If we add a little sugar and wait an extra day to seal the barrels or casks, that should cure the problem. It will let the excess yeast eat the sugars and they will fall harmlessly to the bottom. If they are sealed too soon, we could have some explosive results!”

“Well that is good to know, but what about the stench? Surely it is not meant to smell like this.”

“I should say not!” I laugh at the expression on Galathil’s normally serene face. “As I said before, beer making is not a trade of my family, but if I were to guess I would say the grain has been over steeped. It is meant to be kept below boiling point until it is removed. The hulls of the grain release strong smelling tannins if it is boiled or left too long.”

“Can anything be done or will we need to start fresh? I don’t think we have enough grain to begin again.”

“Hmm, well if we can come up with some kind of calcium carbonate to add that should counteract the acid from the tannins.”

“Calcium carbonate?”

“Gypsum should work. Do we have any blackboard chalk around here?”

“One thing Lord Legolas made certain of was that there were no classrooms installed here in Ithilien en Edhil,” Galathil laughs, “ and I do not know where chalk would be used outside of that!”

I laugh as well, for my lad has made it quite clear that he is done with schooling and classrooms. I have not pointed out that his learning Khuzdul could be considered educational! However that thought does not answer our dilemma now.

“Perhaps one of the residents has some?” I suggest, which gives Galathil an idea.

“I know! Doesn’t Lord Legolas use it to sketch with on occasion? I know he uses mostly charcoal sticks, but I believe I have seen him using white chalk as well.”

“Good thinking Lad! I’ll have to go rummage through his things before he gets home and see what I can find.”

That is easier said than done for haven’t seen the lad make use of any art supplies since I’ve been here so I do not know just where to look. A thorough search of his winter quarters proves fruitless, as does a search of his office. I had hoped I would find what I am looking for inside the main hall because otherwise that means I’ll have to search his other sleeping quarters, which is not something I am eager to do. I have never understood elves and their penchant for living in trees, and Legolas’ flet is a particularly tall birch, with a rope ladder that doesn’t quite reach the ground. The ladder is hardly ever used since Legolas normally ignores it in lieu of leaping directly into the tree, so it is really only a sort of safety feature, in case someone must be moved down for some unforeseen reason. Still in my opinion there is nothing that looks safe about it at all, especially for a dwarf.

My first thought is to find Captain Galathil and ask him to climb up, but he has gone off to the kitchens to collect the sugar we need to add to the brew and it will take too long for me to summon him here since time is of the essence. It will not do for my lad to arrive home to find that I have discovered his secret surprise. 

So I summon up the courage and, reaching up with my arms, haul myself up onto the flimsy, swinging bit of twine that the folks here mistake for proper steps. Since I am considerably heavier than the usual occupant of this flet, the steps dip down and swing well back away from the tree when I finally manage to get my feet on the bottom rung. My stomach drops and I close my eyes briefly as the ladder sways and undulates with every breath and movement. A dwarf prefers reliable solid ground beneath his feet, and not some fragile looking bit of floss, but never let it be said that a dwarf is afraid to go where and elf is not! Pure stubbornness makes me open my eyes and inch my way up the ladder that evidently is much stronger than it looks! 

I sigh in relief when I reach the platform, and soon my efforts are rewarded, for at the very bottom of a cedar trunk, buried beneath some parchments, stretched canvases and small tins of pigment, I find a small metal box. Inside I find charcoal sticks of various softness and lengths, some blunt and some sharpened to a point. Underneath those, carefully wrapped in very thin fabric, I find what I need: a handful of brand new white chalk sticks. I quickly stick them in my pocket, put everything back as it was and once again brave the ladder.

I find Galathil staring anxiously down into the concoction with the commandeered sugar looking very skeptical indeed. He looks even more so when I begin to crush the chalk into powder with my hands and sprinkle it over the surface of the brew. 

“It should work quickly if it’s going to work,” I tell him. “By the end of the day we should know one way or another. The horrific aroma should begin to abate.”

I am just crumbling in the last of the chalk, when Galathil suddenly straighten his back.

“They are back!” he tells me, taking me by the arm and literally dragging me outside and across the yard well away from the beer making. I have just enough time to school my face into a casual expression before Legolas spots me and waves. I can see he is handing over a good sized deer for someone to clean and leaving his horse in someone’s hands as well.

Before I have time to brush my hands off he is striding up beside me and then embracing me in greeting. Rather than returning the embrace, as I always do, I cross my arms and clamp my fists together to hide my chalky palms, which makes the encounter awkward and strange. Legolas gives me an odd look.

“Is anything amiss, Elvellon?”

“Nay of course not!” I say and then attempt to change the subject. “Well now, I see the hunt was a great success. Well done, lamb. Now why don’t ye go and get cleaned up. Ye look as if ye could use a little hot water. I’ll meet ye shortly.” 

“Very well, “ he agrees and then attempts one more time to embrace me, which I once again have to shrug off. 

 

“Have I done something wrong Gimli?” he asks, quite puzzled now.

“Most likely, but if so, I haven’t heard of it yet,” I tease him, “Do ye have something to tell me laddie?”

“Certainly not!”

‘In that case, do as ye are bid and go on back to your chambers. Go!”

Unfortunately years of habit cause me to punctuate this command by applying a light swat to his rear end, only this time, I leave a perfect white hand print. All will not be lost, if he just doesn’t notice! But then Galathil lets out a snort of laughter without meaning to. 

“What?”

Galathil and I exchange glances and I know just by looking in his face that he will not be able to give a convincing story. The key to a good falsehood, is keeping it as close to the truth as possible. I make a decision.

“Ye have been marked, laddie,” I chuckle, “have a look.”

Noticing where Galathil and I are directing our eyes, Legolas looks and then frowns and brushes at the dusty handprint.

“What is all over your hands, Elvellon?”

“Chalk,” I say without hesitation. The second key to a good falsehood is avoiding hesitation. “I was putting some in my toolboxes just before ye arrived. It does wonders to keep out moisture and prevent rusting, though I didn’t’ mean to leave it on ye.”

“Like the white hand of Saruman, only in a more personal place,” Galathil quips, making me laugh again and causing Legolas to roll his eyes. He seems perfectly accepting of my explanation though, and goes on about his business.

I am greatly relieved, that my childhood skill of shamming my way out of a situation has not deserted me entirely and can still be brought to good use when needed after so many years of practicing honesty. I have always said that a lie was an abomination, and an ever present help in times of distress. Though that thought is something that will never pass my lips. I doubt if I would ever live it down.


	7. Legolas' pov

A quick visit to Elboron before our hunt, is no help, for no one knows how to repair out troubles with the ale, or at least no one will say, though they do offer to sell us some of their own barrels. It is disappointing, but I cannot stay disappointed, for it is such a beautiful day for a ride.

It is a wonderful feeling riding through the forest listening to the song of the trees and seeing how the work of my folk has brought new life back to the woods of Ithilien. It makes me proud of all that we have achieved for it makes the sacrifices that have had to be made, the losses we have suffered and even the sea longing itself worthwhile. The physical scars left by the War of the Ring have long been healed. The land of the moon blossoms in the spring; new life blooms in the glades and along the riverbanks. However, even now, as winter begins to creep inm there is beauty to be found in the colours of the leaves, the scurrying of small creatures as they prepare for their winter sleep and the calling of the birds. Ithilien is a beautiful place to live at any time of the year. Food is plentiful, there are berries, fungi, nuts and roots to harvest and game is plentiful.

 

This is fortunate, for we may have to destroy some of our smoked venison, that has been prepared for winter stores even though it is in fact perfectly sound. The ale is causing that disgusting stink which pervades the colony, but I cannot tell Gimli that so the venison will have to be sacrificed. I can only hope that our efforts this morning will bear fruit and make the special ale drinkable. As soon as we get back, I will go and check, because if things are still as bad I will have to apply to Emyn Annun and ask them to send us some barrels of their own brew. It will be disappointing not to be able to toast Gimli in our ale but we do not have enough grain or the time available to begin the process again.

For now, I had better concentrate on watching the trail and seeing if we can find that fine buck Gimli mentioned. I would also like to bring down a boar since my dwarf is partial to roast boar and it would make a spectacular centrepiece for our feast.

Saelind brings his horse alongside mine “The air is certainly a deal sweeter out here.”

I give him a scowl but all it achieves is to make him smirk, before he adds, showing that he is truly concerned. “Do you believe adding the extra sugar will make that brew drinkable?”

“I certainly hope so. It will be disheartening indeed, if the feast has to go ahead without it, but I do not wish to postpone our celebration either, else we cannot hope to call it a welcome to his new home for Gimli because he will have been here too long and likely have built a new hall before the next batch of ale would be ready for drinking. If in fact it ever turns out to be so. I am beginning to think there is far more to brewing ale than I thought,” I admit.

“Even without the ale, I am sure Lord Gimli will appreciate all that you have planned for him.” My captain says sympathetically, before adding in an effort to cheer me up, “Galathil was telling me you intend to bestow a special sigal upon Lord Gimli that will announce to all that he is considered a lord of Ithilien en-Edhil?”

This is true enough. I have been planning and thinking about my choice of a suitable honour for my dwarf, and beginning to have second thoughts on the subject. I was set upon making a circlet or altering one of mine, but when I thought rather more about it and recalled that I hate wearing a circlet doubts set in. I have never seen any dwarf wear anything like a circlet and I cannot think that Gimli would choose to do so. A cloak pin might be a better option, but would take me too long to make. So now seems a good time to gauge Saelind’s thoughts on my choice.   
As soon as I begin to explain, I can tell he is not enamoured of my idea.

“You do not think Gimli will like it?” 

Saelind hesitates, then when I encourage him to speak the truth he admits that he doesn’t see Lord Gimli in a circlet.

“It just does not seem dwarfish,” he explains sheepishly.

The mental image of my staunch dwarven guardian with his great mane of hair and beard with a slim silver circlet perched on his head fills my mind. It is not a pretty sight and Saelind is only confirming my own thoughts on the matter after all.

“You are right, “I admit. “Although I suspect he would wear it if he thought it would please me. But what else can I produce in the time we have left?”

We both fall silent, and I suspect that Saelind like me is trying to visualise something that would be sufficiently impressive to prove Gimli’s lordship without making him look ridiculous. 

“What about a belt buckle?” Saelind breaks our silence, “Lord Gimli has many fine belts. A silver buckle of sufficient size would allow you to add the sigil you want to and be …” he waves a hand, as if unable to come up with the correct phrases and ends with “well properly dwarvish.”

Why I had not thought of such a thing is beyond me, and so I tell him. 

“It is a good idea, but I am not certain I will have sufficient time to make it now.”

“You would not have to do all the work yourself, Lord Legolas. We have someone in the colony that can make the buckle itself.” 

I must look somewhat blank for he adds, “Lathron, Lord Legolas. Although he works in the fruit orchards much of the time, his first love is metalworking. He has repaired many a hasp for me. His work is excellent. I am sure he would he be capable of making a suitable buckle, one that celebrates Lord Gimli’s heritage in design and shape. Then you could inscribe it with appropriate decoration.”

 

This thought is so cheering that I cannot help but smile.

“It would be perfect and something that Gimli would truly appreciate. When we get back will you go and speak with Lathron and explain what it is we need and why it is important to keep things a secret?”

“I will do so with pleasure, although we still have to find sufficient silver to form a buckle.”

“Oh” I reply airily, “there will be no problem there. I have access to plenty of silver- mithril as well if it is needed.” 

It takes a moment or two for my words to sink in and the look my captain gives me is a mixture of horror and reluctant admiration.

“Lord Legolas you are never thinking of melting down your circlets?”

I shrug, and he continues in a scolding tone “I do not believe Aran Thranduil would approve of such an action.”

I am unrepentant, the many miles between Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien en-Edhil making me cocksure.

“What Ada does not know will not hurt him, or me.” I tell him, “It is in a good cause after all. Now come let us see what game we can find.”

Fortune smiles upon us. Some of our group go foraging for sweet berries and the last of the wild nuts. Others collect herbs and roots. Saelind finds the tracks of a good-sized deer and I send him to track and bring it down. I go on alone until I find what I am looking for a large and rather belligerent boar. I say a silent prayer to Eru before I take its life and then tie its body to the back of my horse before I turn back to where our party has agreed to meet. 

I arrange for the boar to be brought in by a side path so that should Gimli be there to welcome us home he will not see it. I will be sure to make a gift of the boars tusks to my dwarf he will find them useful for carving in the winter months.

As soon as we enter the glade where the hall and the flets are located. I take a cautious sniff, and to my great relief realise immediately that the smell is much diminished. In fact if you were unaware of the odour you would probably not even notice it on the air at all. I exchange a relieved smile with Saelind. It seems our efforts of the morning have borne fruit. I want to go straight to the shed to see for myself but I see Gimli watching and so do my best to curb my impatience.

I hurry across the space to embrace him but something is obviously amiss since Gimli does not return my greeting in his usual fashion. I give him a look and ask if anything is wrong.

He denies it and turns to look at the results of our mornings hunt.

“Well Lamb I can see from the filled panniers that ye have had a good morning,” his gaze goes to where the buck has been lifted down prior to being taken away. “And ye brought down a buck.” 

He lifts the blanket that covers the body of the deer

. “He is a fine specimen. Make sure his antlers are kept safe. They will make a good addition to our supplies and from what I have seen since I came here ye could do with some new knife handles.”

I agree meekly, deciding it is not worth pointing out that we have a well-rehearsed routine for ensuring every part of the carcase of any animal we kill is utilised. It would be wrong indeed to waste Eru’s bounty.

“Ye have not overstretched yourself?” Gimli is frowning up into my face and I have to school my features and to curb my desire to stride off in the direction of the shed.

“I am well enough,” I respond and then seeing an opportunity to lose my over anxious guardian add, “Although I believe I will go change my clothing.”

“Aye ye do that. Ye look as if ye could use a little hot water.” 

“Very well, “ I agree, keen to go off and inspect the ale. I attempt another embrace and once again I am shrugged off. Now I am definitely confused and demand to know if I have done something to upset him.

“Most likely, but if so, I haven’t heard of it yet,” He waggles his eyebrows, and adds, “Do ye have something to tell me laddie?”

“Certainly not!” I answer albeit a trifle guiltily since I am intent on deceiving him although it is for his own good of course.

He seems to accept my word, spins me on my heel and sends me on my way with a swat to the seat of my leggings.

Galathil who has been standing by all this time gives a most inelegant snort of laughter which I am sure is aimed in my direction, a fact that is confirmed when Gimli chuckles as well and points at my rear telling me to take a look.

There is a white handprint on my backside. I attempt to brush it off before frowning at Gimli’s palm.

“What is all over your hands, Elvellon?”

“Chalk,” He tells me “I was putting some in my toolboxes just before ye arrived. It does wonders to keep out moisture and prevent rusting, though I didna’ mean to leave it on ye.”

“Like the white hand of Saruman, only in a more personal place,” Galathil quips. My guard captain has recently displayed a quite inappropriate, in my view at least, sense of humour. I roll my eyes and he does his best to control his twitching lips.

“Why don’t ye get a little rest? I will come up and wake ye before dinner,” Gimli advises me.

I bite my lip at this over anxious mothering, but since it suits me to disappear for a time, I take myself off, making sure I have completely brushed off the evidence of Gimli’s hand on my backside I have no desire to be the butt of anyone else’s perverse sense of humour. I roll my eyes at my own thoughts. 

Once I have reached my winter quarters ( for I know well that to suggest to Gimli that I prefer to sleep in my flet is like telling a Hobbit that there is to be no second breakfast) I wait until I am sure he is fully occupied then slip out of the window.

Saelind and Galathil are both awaiting me in the shed and I can tell from their expressions that finally things seem to be going right with the brew. I peer down into the vats and see for myself the miracle that has been wrought by the addition of that extra sugar. I beam at them and say, “I told you there was nothing to the brewing of ale.”

This comment is greeted with a rolling of eyes on Saelind’s part. Galathil merely snorts and says,

“So you did Lord Legolas. I for one am just grateful that that dreadful smell has finally dissipated.” He peers down into the mixture and then looks up at me, “I suppose someone should taste it.”

There is no rush of volunteers for this chore so I dip a cup into the brew and bring it to my lips. Having spent many years with Gimli and his family in Erebor and Aglarond I have tasted my fair share of beers and ales, and while this one may not be perfect it is, thank the Valar, drinkable. And surely with a few more days to ‘mature’ it will improve. I can only trust that will be the case.

“It is fine,” I assure my audience of two, “we should put it into the casks now taking care of course for ale at this stage can be volatile and we do not want to have the problem of exploding barrels.” 

My quip is met with two identical looks of horror.

“I am only jesting,” I reassure them, “that sort of thing happens only rarely.”

“Let us hope it does not happen at all,” Galathil mutters before leading us out of the shed. 

Taking care to avoid Gimli and his minions who are already hauling stone into place to hold the wooden frames that will form the roof I go in search of Lathron to explain what I want for Gimli’s belt buckle. 

Lathron asks me to provide him with some designs, size and shape and I promise to do so but of course to ensure it will fit Gimli’s present belts I will have to measure them which means going into his quarters and searching out what is needed. I just hope that I can achieve that without having to come up with an explanation to Gimli as to why I am riffling through his clothes presses.


	8. Chapter 8

Xxxx

I watch as Legolas makes his way back to the main hall to clean up and rest after his hunt this morning. It is gratifying to know that he is still skilled enough to be successful at such an endeavor considering that it was only a few short months ago that he couldn’t even manage to feed himself without support. It truly is a miraculous difference, and I am still hopeful that there will be further improvement and that under careful supervision we will be able to avoid such severe setbacks in the future. Of course always in the back of my mind, I know that the war we are fighting is doomed to failure, but I still hope to win as many battles as possible and at least slow down the inevitable outcome of the sea longing. I must sigh, for I notice Galathil and Saelind exchange concerned glances, but since it will accomplish nothing to fret and worry and distress everyone else, I force my thoughts back to immediate concerns. 

“I assume there was never anything wrong with the smoked meat and that the stench was coming entirely from the ale?”

“Aye, Lord Gimli, the meat is fine, but we are to burn it anyway so as to avoid any questions from you that would give away the surprise,” Saelind explains.

“A living creature gave up its life to sustain us,” I say, “it is wrong to wantonly waste it in such a way.”

Again my two companions exchange surprised glances. Perhaps they are taken aback that a dwarf is concerned over the life of a deer since we do not have the affinity with beasts that most elves seem to have. While it is true, that I am not likely to commune with the woodland creatures or talk to the trees, I could never comfortably just wantonly waste resources. My years in Aglarond were years of plenty, but I am no stranger to surviving on slim supplies, having done so many times in battle and in my earliest years in the Blue Mountains. Not only that but both of my parents survived the desolation of their ancestral home and spent many years wandering the wilderness never knowing where their living was coming from. Waste was seen as a terrible sin by the old folks, even after our safe return to Erebor, so I was brought up to make resources stretch. If we were to wastefully destroy perfectly good smoked meat, I feel sure Lady Vonild would find her way out of the halls of our ancestors to speak her mind on the matter! Saelind has his concerns though.

“If we were to keep it, it would raise suspicions among the folks who believed we were hunting to replace it, even if Lord Legolas could be convinced that it was burned, and we hoped to keep the fact that you have been alerted to the celebration between the three of us.”

It is true what he says, for I would not like to spoil anything for my lad, and the more folks who know the truth, the more likely he is to find out. Still there must be a solution.

“I could personally take it into the woods as if to burn it,” Galathil suggests, “and then take it instead to Emyn Arnen as a gift. In fact Lord Legolas would likely be happier knowing the truth about it since he is also loathe to be wasteful. I think he would be pleased knowing the meat was being used rather than sacrificed.”

“But what if someone there later mentions the gift to one of our residents?” Saelind asks, throwing a wrench in our idea. “It could still spoil the secret.”

“Not if ye tell Lord Elboron the truth of the matter,” I say, “It will mean involving a fourth person in our secret, but if anyone can keep quiet it is Faramir’s son, for no doubt he learned it from the best. I do not doubt that Prince Faramir went to his long rest with many secrets yet intact.”

There is a moment of silence, for both Galathil and Saelind shared a long relationship with their late neighbor and no doubt worked side by side with Faramir and his men for many years. The elves here were chosen partly because of their willingness to work with mortal kind, but such friendships can take a toll on those who cannot join former friends in Mandos Halls. It is my personal opinion that a loving creator would not keep loved ones separated forever just because they are of differing races, but since there is nothing written on the matter, and it is a controversial topic, I steer clear from bringing it up. Instead I speak briskly.

“Why don’t ye do that at your first available convenience, Captain Galathil? The sooner the matter is settled the better! And I thank ye both for your desire to make sure your Lord is pleased with the outcome of his planned surprise, even if it means I have to call on my acting skills to achieve it. It is to both of your credits that ye are so concerned over my lad’s happiness and well-being. But if we are finished here, I believe I will do what I can to get some more stone laid before sunset!”

I spend the rest of the afternoon working with the masonry crew, laying stone, but just before sunset I return to the main hall as promised to wake my lad for evening meal. I fully expect to find him sleeping, for even though he likes to grumble about my ‘mothering’ ways, he generally does manage to sleep soundly in the afternoons since his last episode of sea longing if I can convince him to try. 

When I enter his chambers I am a little surprised to find that not only is he not there, but his bed hasn’t even been rumpled, so clearly he has chosen to ignore my proposal that he should rest. Not only that, but his window is open meaning he might have exited using the window to avoid me seeing him leave via the more traditional route. I am slightly annoyed, for I do not care for my directions being disregarded, but when I think back to my exact words, I realize that I did not phrase it in the form of an order, so he would have been able to tell himself I was merely making a suggestion and therefore he was not obliged to obey. I roll my eyes at this thought, for he knows very well what I meant, but it is also aimed at myself a bit. I should know by now to be more careful of how I word things! 

Since I am not in the mood to go chasing after the lad and it is unlikely he could get very far without it being reported to me, for he is well guarded here, I decide to wait until I have bathed and changed into clean clothing to go in search of him. I open the door to my own bedchamber only to leap back startled when I come face to face with my elfling, who leaps back with a startled yelp as well. 

“Gimli!” 

Legolas’ expression must look very similar to mine, for his eyes are wide open and one hand is on his heart just as mine is. I lower mine, and chuckle at our identical reactions. 

“Mahal lad, I swear I’m going to put a bell around your neck one of these days. Ye near gave me heart failure.”

It is only after my heart has begun to return to its normal rhythm that I notice that Legolas looks distinctly uncomfortable as if he is guilty of something, and for the first time I see that he is holding something behind his back. And he is coming from my chambers, which makes me more suspicious still, but rather than ask right off what he is hiding I mention something else.

“Did ye rest well?”

He stares at me wide eyed for a moment and I see the color rising in his face immediately. The poor lad truly cannot lie to save his life even now, though I can see well enough that he very much wishes he could do so just now. He nods once, but when I raise an eyebrow, he changes his mind and evidently decides not to risk it.

“I…I couldn’t sleep…” he begins, but it is easy to see that he is still attempting to pull the wool over my eyes.

“Ye couldn’t, or ye didn’t try?” I ask, causing him to change his thought again.

“That is I couldn’t because I didn’t attempt it. I had too many things to do.”

I wait for a moment to let him explain what it is that has kept him so busy, but when he just falls silent, I make a suggestion. 

“Things like searching my chambers for…? What are ye hiding behind your back?”

He keeps his hand behind his back for a long moment as if attempting to think of a reasonable excuse not to answer the question, but finally he reluctantly bring the hand around where I can see it.

I am very puzzled to see in his hand one of my oldest work belts, for I cannot imagine what he could possibly want with it. I am about to demand an answer, but I can see that he is anxiously biting his lip and looking extremely nervous. Suddenly it dawns on me that he is still in the middle of planning a big surprise, and I very possibly might be coming dangerously close to forcing him to confess. His expression reminds me of how he looked when we had the tussle down at the river earlier this week, and I finally realize that that whole episode might have been the same thing. The lad was likely attempting to keep me from discovering something to do with his plan. Understanding this causes me to feel a twinge of regret for having been a little forceful with him that day, and I certainly don’t want to repeat that mistake. It would never do to ruin his plans after he has worked so hard to pull things off. 

So instead of insisting he tell me what he is about, I offer an excuse for him.

“Dinna look so worried, lamb. Ye are welcome to borrow that old belt if ye’ve a need for it. It is little use to me now, and leather works as well as a whetstone for sharpening your knives if that’s what ye wanted it for…”

Relief floods his features and he grabs at my words like a lifeline.

“Yes! That’s it exactly,” he tells me, “I need to sharpen my knives and my whetstone wasn’t handy. I didn’t think you would mind, though I should have asked I suppose…”

But I merely wave away his concerns. 

“It is no matter,” I assure him, “ye are welcome to anything I have other than my war axe. Ye haven’t been trained to use it and ye shouldna’ attempt it unsupervised.”

This makes him lose the worried look and scowl at me, for this is an old argument.

“I could learn to wield it if you would teach me,” he complains. “you could supervise the training you know.”

“I could,” I agree, “but even so I don’t think it would be safe. No need to look insulted, elfling, I know ye are strong enough to lift it, but it weighs more than you do, so ye’d be completely overbalanced. It is entirely unwieldy for the likes of you.”

He looks so comically disgruntled that I have to smile, but then I also realize that it has been a long-standing wish of his to learn to fight with an axe. He has been curious to try since we set out from Rivendell on the quest to destroy the One Ring, and has mentioned it several times since being adopted into my clan. 

“As the adopted son of a great dwarf lord, I should be taught how to fight with the main weapon of our people,” he insists, and for the first time I understand why it is so important. 

“Of course ye should,” I soothe, making a mental note to work on a design for an axe with his taller, slighter frame in mind. I am not sure why I never thought of it before, but I will begin on it right away. It will give me something to do over the winter months when the building work must halt and will give my lad something to look forward to as well. But for now, I change the subject. “Come lamb, dress for dinner and I will do the same, then we’ll go down to evening meal together. After that, perhaps an early night is in order since ye were too ‘busy’ to rest this afternoon.”

I can see that he barely resists rolling his eyes, but perhaps because he is so relieved at having gotten off the hook for having to explain his actions regarding filching my belt, he only nods in agreement and goes off to prepare for dinner.

The evening meal is uneventful except for the fact that Galathil makes a show of letting me know that the ‘foul’ meat has been destroyed. I am careful to wander around to speak to particular friends, so that Legolas has ample opportunity to talk and plan out of my earshot, but as soon as the crowd in the dining area begins to clear, I insist on him returning to his quarters to sleep. 

This time, I wait until I am sure he is sleeping before, going off to do some sketching. It only takes a moment or two for his breathing to become regular, so it is not long until I am back in my quarters and working out my idea for a design for a dwarvish war axe meant for an elf. I am quite pleased with it in the end, and decide to immediately seek out the bladesmith to arrange to make use of his forge at some time in the near future. Only as I pass my lad’s chamber I hear the distinct sound of movement behind the door. Frowning I stop to listen for a moment and sure enough, something other than sleeping is taking place in there! Evidently I have been conned into believing he was sound asleep earlier when he must have actually been faking it the whole time! I place my hand on the door knob in preparation to bursting in and giving him a piece of my mind about such deception, when I recall again, that now is not the time to demand answers! 

Whatever he is doing in there could very well have to do with the celebration he is planning and so even though it is difficult to do so, I pass by the door and go about my business. I force myself to stay away until after dawn when I finally go into to collect my lad for break of fast. Rather than being already prepared for the day as he normally would be, I find him curled up under his covers and fast asleep, no doubt worn out from having stayed up all night working on…well whatever he was working on! 

Rather than waking him, I go to the window and draw the curtain to keep out the light, then arrange for a tray to be sent up from the kitchen in a few hours. If I must allow covert working to be done at night, then it is best to arrange for a long lie in to replace the lost sleep.

I then go on about my day, for the weather will be closing in soon and there is no time to be lost on the building project. As I do so, I wonder when exactly this ‘surprise’ celebration is to take place. From the pleasant aroma that has replaced the stench of yesterday, I judge that it won’t be for another day or two if my lad knows anything at all about making ale, for to try to tap it too soon will make for an unpleasant brew. At least I hope so, for I will have to enjoy this ale, no matter how poor the taste, and I’d rather not have to rely on my acting skills to do so.


	9. Legolas' pov

I cannot believe how swiftly the last few days have gone. Tonight is the time I have decreed when the celebratory feast to welcome Gimli to Ithilien –en-Edhil will be held. All is in readiness -well I trust it is.   
One thing I am sure of is that the ale that has caused so many problems finally appears to be ready to tap. There was a time when I despaired of that state of affairs ever happening. Somehow, miraculously the ale now looks, smells and even tastes; at least to my limited palate like proper ale.

I do not pretend that it is a patch on the beers that would be available to Gimli in Aglarond, but I have tasted far worse usually in some of the smaller halls in Rohan and so my greatest fear has been assuaged. We will be able to toast Gimli as a Lord or Ithilien-en-Edhil with ale, which to a dwarf is a very important part of the ceremony.

Obviously adding the extra sugar has worked, not that I have been allowed to ‘tinker’ with the brew since then. Somehow, and I am still not certain how it happened, Galathil has taken over the brewing process. He must have been reading up on the subject for he certainly appears to have all of the correct language and seems to know how and when to keg the ale. I am lost in admiration for his new found brewing skills, but have been so busy that I have had not had an opportunity to ask him how he has suddenly become a brew master.

Presently, I do not care. I am just grateful that is the case; just as I am happy that everything else has proceeded so successfully.

When I came back from the hunt, although I had a good idea on what was needful to make a successful celebration I was not at all sure it would be feasible to achieve. Yet somehow, we have succeeded. It seems that everyone in the colony wished to play his or her part. Lathron was more than happy to shape the buckle that I had designed, even after he realized that he silver would come from melting down two of my circlets, though I had to promise him that Adar would never learn of what he had done.

Galathil and Saelind offered to work on the leather for the belt while the musicians, cooks and needle workers have all done their bit.

For me once the shape of the buckle had been decided upon, I had only to engrave the sigils of Aglarond and Ithilien bound together by the seven stars of Gondor for the whole thing to be complete.

Not only is the belt finished but we also have a beautiful new banner to unfurl when I pronounce Gimli a lord of Ithilien. This will also show the entwined knife and axe that Gimli first had tattooed over his heart when he officially named me his son and heir.

Fortunately for the sake of the ellith who were set to embroider the new banner, I had my own version of it in the form of a pendant, which I loaned to them. I am not sure how I could have explained away the need for Gimli to wander about without his shirt while the ellith took covert notice of his chest. 

This piece of foolishness makes me smile and I am still smiling when I take out the belt and buckle to admire it one last time before tonight’s ceremony. I know it is something that Gimli will like and I am relieved that things have worked out so well. I admit I have had my doubts it would ever happen and even more doubts on keeping the whole thing secret from my far too knowing dwarf but we seem to have succeeded.

I thought I had been found out on the night that it was decided that it would be preferable to present Gimli with an ornate buckle as a sign of his lordship here. My heart was in my mouth when I heard his footsteps outside my chamber when I was supposed to be sleeping. I knew that should he enter Gimli would demand to know what I was about and my secret would have been found out, but by the Valar’s goodwill he went on by and I was safe but I was concerned that attempting to work at night would be difficult. As it happened, my dwarf himself presented a solution to me. Gimli insisted the next day and each day after that, that I nap in the afternoons. I was about to object to this decree when it occurred to me that if I retired to my chambers as ordered Gimli would then be free to return to his building work. This way, I was presented with a couple of hours each day to work on my engraving, and all the other things that needed to be organized for the celebration all without Gimli being any the wiser.

Sometimes it seems the sun does indeed shine on the righteous. 

Galathil and Saelind even came up with a solution as to what to do with the so-called ruined smoked venison, which we had to be seen to destroy. Galathil came up with the idea that it could be given to Lord Elboron as a gift, a thank you for his help with the brewing while Gimli would be told it had been destroyed.

It was a perfect answer, the venison was not wasted and with its departure, there was no more talk of spoiled meat from Gimli, while fortunately for everyone else, the ale settled down and the stink dissipated. 

In fact, Gimli has been so wrapped up with building the extension to the hall that I have seen little of him other than at meals. Things could not have worked out better had they been so planned, so much so that now on the afternoon of the feast I find myself with little more to do than choose what clothes to wear for it will not do to welcome Gimli as Lord of Ithilien-en-Edhil in my usual brown tunic. It is then that I realize that there is one problem I have not yet solved. How do I persuade Gimli that it is necessary for him to dress up as well? I know very well that he will not at all like it if he is wearing his leather and chain mail and the rest of the colony are decked out in their best finery.

While I am still pondering over this latest problem, Gimli walks into my chamber his face wreathed in smiles.

He claps his hands and announces, “We have managed to get the walls up to a good height today laddie. I will say this for your folk: when they put their minds to it they work well enough. I reckon we will be able to put in the A frames that will hold up the roof and maybe even put in temporary wood and wattle walls and a thatched roof before winter really strikes.” 

He walks over to the fire to warm his hands then turns and lifts his leather tunic to warm his rump beaming at me, as he does so. 

“It will not be perfect but it will provide good shelter for the beasts and for additional storage. That way the storage sheds can be utilized as dormitories for the warriors should it be that the winter bites as hard as your weather lore master believes it might.” He stops then as if just noticing what I am doing.   
He does not look pleased at the mound of clothing that is next to my clothes press. 

“Whatever are ye searching for now? Not another belt I trust?”

“I am looking for my formal autumn robes.”

This is true enough

“Why?” he wonders as he begins to automatically fold and smooth the clothes I have tossed onto the floor.

A good question! Now if only I can come up with an explanation, and then it comes to me in a rush. I give Gimli my sweetest, most contrite smile and answer, “The truth is, Elvellon, that I forgot that tonight is the time we offer up our thanks for my Adar. It is an old tradition that goes back many years.”

Gimli frowns at me, clearly disapproving of my loss of memory. 

“Is that so? Well I admit I was wondering what was going on. Everyone has been so busy and the delicious smells coming from the kitchens should have warned me that something special was in the offing. Really, Lamb, “ he shakes a finger at me, “ye should not have to be reminded of such an occasion. A feast for your father is it? It is as well that your folk have learned to get on with things even when you fail to give them a lead. It would have been shameful to have failed to mark such a tradition.”

I duck my head and allow the scold to wash over me, mumbling contritely that I am very sorry, and that I am indeed grateful that others have taken the time to organize the feast, all the while doing my best to hide my smile as Gimli tells me he must hurry if he is to change into appropriate clothing.

“ I for one do not wish to offend your Adar.”

“You will not do so,” I tell him as he disappears into his own chambers, “You cannot do so, Edwen Adar.”

Night has fallen by the time we are ready to go down to the hall. I have managed somehow to keep Gimli here with me until I received the signal that all was in readiness then I finally suggest we make our way out of the winter quarters and onto the green. 

“And about time” he grumbles. “I for one am starving and the smell of the food has been tormenting me this last hour. Did I catch the aroma of roast boar?” he sniffs appreciatively then turns his gaze on me again, checking me over to ensure that I am what he would call properly dressed for the occasion. He twitches the long velvet over robe into place and straightens my autumn circlet on my head. “Aye ye will do. Your Da would be proud of ye could he see ye.”

“You look very smart as well,” I return the compliment, glad that Gimli has chosen the deep scarlet cloak over his best mail and has braided his beard with the special pattern I created years ago to show our father son relationship. 

“There will be a procession into the hall,” I explain as we descend the stairs together. As we get to the bottom, Galathil and Saelind bow to us both, they are decked out in their formal uniforms which I have not seen them wear since the last time Aragorn visited the colony.

They fall in behind us and as we come out into the glade I see that all of our folk await us, torches flare pushing back the darkness as someone begins a song.

The words are in Sindarin but I know Gimli has a good understanding of the language and can understand the words. The song is one of our coming together during the Quest and of how we have changed the way elves and dwarves perceive one another. Gimli smiles and nods as all about him, there are bows and curtseys. I suspect he still believes all this ceremony is for me for he looks proudly at me and nods his head as if agreeing with the sentiment being shown.

Our folk fall in behind us and we wend our way slowly towards the welcoming lights of the hall. My heart begins to flutter as the moment comes closer when I announce his lordship of Ithilien en Edhil. I hope he will be pleased.

The song ends as we progress up the hall to take our seats where a dais has been raised. I look out over our people as they find their own places and find I am inordinately proud of all they have achieved. 

In front of me on the table lies the belt covered with a velvet cloth, and high in the rafters I see one of our warriors sitting on a beam waiting to unfurl our new banner. I surreptitiously wipe my hands down the sides of my robe. 

Then lift them as Adar always does to call for silence.

“My people, we come here tonight to mark a very special occasion.” I look across at Gimli before continuing, “All of you here know well the role Gimli, son of Gloin, has played in the success we have made of our colony here in Ithilien. Without his strength to guide me and his love to sustain me, I know I would not now still be standing here in this land we all love so well.”

I look again at Gimli and see a puzzled frown on his brow as he listens to my words. 

“Such is his love that he has chosen to give up his own lordship in Aglarond to come and live here with us. This is a sacrifice that I felt needed to be acknowledged, which is why we are here tonight. I know I have your full consent and indeed your full approval to do what I am about to do. I also have the sanction of the King of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien and the support of my king, and sire Thranduil Oropherion. All I need now is your agreement Elvellon.”

I smile at Gimli and he looks a little nonplussed, “agreement for what lad?”

I take another deep breath, “Agreement to become a Lord of Ithilien en Edhil. To take into your capable hands a share of the governance of our colony and to help us to make this place more beautiful and bountiful for those who will come after us. To offer your wise counsel and strong right arm, your skills and knowledge for the betterment of this land. To dispel forever the remaining darkness that still lays its shadow on this land of the moon. Gimli son of Gloin, one of the Nine Walkers, Lockbearer, Orc Bane and first Lord of the Glittering Caves, will you assent to rule Ithilien en Edhil with me?” 

I can see that my pronouncement has taken him by surprise.

“Saes” I add softly.

“Ye want to make me a lord of this place?”

“I do… we do,” I wave a hand at the expectant faces all turned in Gimli’s direction. 

Gimli brushes away what I suspect are tears, “Ye are certain?”

“I am sure.”

“Well then,” he takes a deep breath of his own, “I would be honored.”

He bows to me and then to the watching elves that break out into cheers as the new banner unfurls showing the entwined sigils. 

“Ye were pretty sure of my answer then?” Gimli harrumphs. He is trying to look stern but I can see that he is pleased nonetheless. 

“I was hopeful Elvellon and I admit to being very relieved,” I answer before lifting my hand and calling for silence once again. “There are just a few more things to do to finalize Lord Gimli as Lord of this demesne.” I say, “And then we can get down to the important business of the night of eating all of the excellent food that has been prepared for us.” 

“And drinking,” Gimli puts in.

“Of course drinking,” I agree, after which we will have the pleasure of indulging in dancing. Good dwarven dancing I mean, in which our new lord will not lead the way else we will all become hopelessly confused.”

Again, there is laughter and cheering for everyone here has practiced the dances and knows them well but they also know Gimli, and how he likes to change the steps and movements especially when he has imbibed freely of elven wine and then accuse us of getting it wrong!

Serious again I lift the velvet-covered belt and offer it to Gimli.

“I offer this gift to mark your new title and new responsibilities, Elvellon. Bear this as a token of our love and as a symbol of your lordship.” 

He unfolds the velvet and lifts the belt up, admiring the workmanship and the design. “I thank ye all for this” he clears his throat, “and ye have my word that I will wear it with pride and do all in my power to uphold the good name of Ithilien en Edhil and all of her folk. This I swear.” He adds, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it before whispering into my ear. “ye have done me great honor laddie but ye may be sure we will be having words about this later.”

I only laugh for I know he is jesting, and then he nod to where the servers have been patiently waiting. They hurry forward with large jugs filled to the brim with foaming ale filling everyone’s goblets.

“And finally a toast, for a proper dwarven celebration or ritual would not be complete without this necessary ingredient; good Dwarvish ale!” I explain to our folk as they sniff this strange brew they are being given.

Gimli claps his hands and laughs as he realizes that we have beer, then he nods at Galathil and Saelind raising his ale to them in salute. They both lift their own drinks in return. It pleases me greatly that their relationship seems to have improved to such an extent that Galathil in particular is ready to acknowledge Gimli so openly.

I raise my own goblet; once all are ready “To Gimli Gloinson, Lord of Ithilien en Edhil” 

“To Lord Gimli of Ithilien,” everyone answers.

I cross my fingers behind my back and take a swallow; amazingly it is not at all bad!


	10. Gimli's POV

I sit back in the armchair in my chambers and raise one last tankard of the night in silent congratulations to myself for having pulled off a convincing acting job. Considering how it began, the ale we’ve managed to brew together has turned out surprisingly palatable for a first try. Of course should we attempt it again, Legolas will have to be left out of the process else he will see that his original method presents the same problems as before, for he still assumes that his efforts are what saved it. I suspect that will not matter much and that he will be happy to leave any future brewing to myself and Captain Galathil, who is on his way to becoming an accomplished brew master. I have to smile to myself remembering the puzzled faces of the elves in attendance at the affair when they were served what for many of them was probably their first taste of ale, though I noticed that the barrel was nearly empty by the night’s end, so it seems that it didn’t take folks long to get used to the taste. Galathil especially seemed to enjoy it, no doubt thinking he might as well enjoy the fruits of his labor! 

I figured out just after first meal today that this would be the day the festivities were to take place for the kitchen staff were all aflutter this morning and the aromas of celebration had been permeating the hall since before dawn. Not only that, but my elfling has had an expression of nervous expectation all day that had I not known what was taking place, would have made me very suspicious that he had been up to mischief of some sort, but as it was, I pretended not to notice and just went on with my day until I was told that we would be attending a feast put on to honor Eryn Lasgalen’s king. I believe my performance was convincing enough to fool my lad and everyone else into believing I was genuinely surprised and to be fair I was surprised in some ways. 

Of course I knew about the planned welcome celebration, but had never expected to be honored in such a major way. I was extremely touched that Legolas wanted to share lordship with me. It was a very generous and humble thing for him to do so, and something I would never has asked for or expected, and yet I am relieved in some ways. It will make things easier when he needs some relief from shouldering his usual duties at times when he is not as his best due to his failing health. Again I do not wish to dwell on that thought, for though it is inevitable, it is best to take one day at a time and rejoice in the good days that are left. 

With that in mind, I turn my thoughts back to tonight’s celebration. One thing about my lad is he never does anything by halves! The effort put in by Legolas and the rest of the colony was tremendous, for not only were the tables groaning with fine food, many of them recipes directly from Dorbryn’s book, but exquisite wines flowed freely throughout the night along with the now infamous Ithilien en Edhil ale! I certainly was not the only one feeling the effect either, for the dancing got livelier and less inhibited as the night progressed so that even the most solemn and stuffy characters in attendance were tapping a foot or swaying to the rhythm by the end. I am thoroughly impressed that Elven musicians could make such good job of playing rollicking dwarvish tunes, and that they seemed proficient at many dwarvish dances as well. 

I realize that this was all possible because of my elfling’s great respect for me and my people. Not only has he allowed himself to be immersed into my culture, but has accepted it as part of his own and even taken the time to teach it to his own people. It is something that honors me as much as the beautiful silver buckle that was meant to signify my lordship here. I could not expect more from a son of my own loins, and I feel the slightest twinge of conscience that I have always dismissed as unnecessary his desire to learn to fight with an axe over the years. Were he my natural son I would never have hesitated to teach him even if I never expected him to use it in battle. It is a time-honored tradition, and I should have done so long ago, and just at the moment I cannot think why I did not. But fortunately it is not too late. A custom-made dwarvish weapon will make a fine Yule gift for our first Yule living together permanently. 

As I am thinking this, I turn to look at heart son where he has fallen asleep on my bed. After the festivities died down, we returned here together where we planned to share one final toast and to discuss the success of the evening before retiring for the night. However, so much drink and dancing, combined with the excitement of planning and the strain of keeping a secret had evidently taken its toll. When I returned from changing out of my formal clothing it was to find Legolas’ formal velvet robe and autumn circlet in a crumpled heap on my floor beside a pair of soft suede boots, and him lying across my bed, sound asleep in his fine silk shirt and velvet leggings. I do not like to wake him, but his clothing will likely be ruined if he sleeps in it. 

Picking up his over robe, I straighten it and lay it across the back of the chair, placing his circlet on top, then walk over to the bed, where I softly stroke his cheek. 

“Come lamb, let us move you to your own chambers, and into something more appropriate for sleep.” I suggest.

He makes no move to do so, but merely rolls to the other side, so I try again.

“Legolas, wake up, lad. I wish to retire and ye are taking up the whole bed. How someone so narrow can take up so much space is beyond me!”

This time he opens one eye just a crack and a small smile plays on his lips. 

“Gimli, I forgot to tell you something” he says, “I practiced for days and then forgot to say it.” 

“Well you can say it now,” I point out, and then chuckle as he scrunches both eyes closed as if in serious concentration. “What is it lamb?”

He begins a sentence in Khuzdul.

“Vem…vemu…gamut manna,” he stammers, and then in frustration, “Ah I can’t remember!”

But I recognize the phrase as one he asked me to teach him that means he wishes to welcome a great dwarven lord to his home. It is a noble attempt at least.

“Ah well, never mind that, lamb. I understand what you’re trying to say, and I appreciate the sentiment. It is the intentions that count with me.”

“Oh good,” he replies as his features relax and his breathing evens out again. Oh well I guess the maids here will have their work cut out for them trying to straighten out his formal clothing, for getting him out of them is not likely to happen tonight. Neither is sleeping in my own bed it seems. So I kiss him on the brow and turn to head to his chamber instead, but before I reach the door I hear him whisper, “men lananubukhs menu.” 

I smile, for I am touched that he has at least remembered well that particular Khuzdul phrase. 

“And I love you too, lamb,” I say, and quietly open the door to leave.


End file.
